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.
I could not find an image of Wilson but here is one of Milton Hart of Co. H, 8th Michigan Infantry, killed in action at Spotsylvania. (Dan Binder Collection)
The following letter was written by Wilson John Baldwin (1845-1881), the orphaned son of John G. Baldwin (1819-1855) and Maria Cronkhite (1820-1857) of Flint, Wayne county, Michigan. Wilson wrote the letter to his aunt who probably raised him after his mother’s death in 1857.
Wilson enlisted at the age of 17 as a private in Co. G, 8th Michigan Infantry on 27 August 1862. This regiment had the distinction of having served in both the Eastern and the Western Theaters of the war, marching and fighting in practically all of the Southern States from the Mississippi river to the Atlantic Ocean. He was with his regiment on 19 August 1864 at the Second Battle of Weldon Railroad (Globe Tavern) when he was severely wounded in the arm which required amputation to save his life. He was discharged for his wounds on 8 June 1865.
After the war he lived in Detroit where he worked as a clerk.
Transcription
Near Fredericksburg, Va. February 6th 1863
Dear Aunt,
I take this opportunity to answer your letter which I received last night. I expect that we will leave here in a few days. Troops have been a moving today. We are to go to Fortress Monroe and then probably in some southern expedition. Some say to North Carolina and others to Charleston or to Florida or to the Gulf but we do not know. Most of the soldiers wish to go. I think that I had rather go South for it is too cold to soldier it here and we are getting short of wood. We do not get half enough to keep us warm. You had not better send a box for it would be quite uncertain.
William Parker is sick. He has the fever and Warren is driving his team until he gets well. Mark has got a letter from you last night. I also got three papers.
I was out on picket day before yesterday. It was snapping cold when we went out. When we came off, it begun to snow. It snowed all day. It turned to rain then and rained all night.
When we go to Fortress Monroe we shall march to Aquia Landing and then take a boat. Capt. [Horatio] Belcher, our captain, got back from the State of New York where he has been for the last six weeks. Brush Fenton, the Colonel’s son, has got back. He is our First Lieutenant. He was wounded at Bull Run. Our Second Lieutenant is John J. Phillips. Harrison Williams is made Orderly Sergeant of Co. A.
The rebels seem to know our doings about as well as we do. The other day, a few days after Hooker was made commander, they asked who our General was. We told them Burnsides but they said it wasn’t. That it was Joe Hooker.
— Pvt. Wilson Baldin, Co. G, 8th Michigan Infantry, 6 February 1863
The rebels seem to know our doings about as well as we do. The other day, a few days after Hooker was made commander, they asked who our General was. We told them Burnsides but they said it wasn’t. That it was Joe Hooker.
They have been building a bakery for this brigade. It is not quite done yet. I suppose that Darwin is going to school and enjoying himself finely. You must write how Jenny gets along and about James Parsons—in what regiment and company. I shall write as soon as we reach our destination. I shall write for the box as soon as I see fit. It will come quite acceptable—especially butter.
The following letter was written by 31 year-old Henry Gleason Clark (1832-1907) to his older brother, Normal L. Clark (1830-1873). The brothers were the oldest sons of Samuel Clark (1799-1840) and Sabrah Cole (1806-1896). After their father died, their mother remarried to Lawrence McNamee (1805-1888) of Coleburg, Delaware county, Iowa.
As a young man, Henry went to California during the gold rush but returned to Clayton county, Iowa in 1853 and settled on a farm in Fayette county in 1860. He was married to Josephine Amelia Otis in 1859 and had at least three children.
Norman also went to California as a young man and never returned to live in Iowa. In 1861 he relocated to Idaho where he worked in the placer mines. He finally settled down and became the sheriff of Alturas county, Idaho. He died at age 43 in Rocky Bar, Elmore county, Idaho.
Transcription
Addressed to Norman L. Clark, Esq., Virginia City, Idaho Territory
Clermont, Fayette county, Iowa March 27th 1864
N. L. Clark,
Dear brother, I write this with the expectation of sending it through by a couple of Norwegians. I heard through a letter from James M. Potts written from Salt Lake that you were at Virginia City. I do not know that it is necessary to make any excuses for not writing before as I believe you now stand debtor on that score to more than one letter.
I hope I shall find timber enough in the incidents of three or four years life to make at least a presentable sheet. My social correspondence during that time has been very limited & you know one grows dull from want of practice in anything. About 4 years ago I overleaped that terrible Benedictine barrier and became what is generally termed a practical man. The natural cares incumbent upon my present life, such as spanking babies (for I have two of them), keeping up an establishment, and the minor items tend to bring out all the business faculties of a man, and use up the most of those leisure moments which he had formerly dedicated to social intercourse with our friends (as you will become fully convinced should you ever make the same step) though you may claim this is an objection, it has the redeeming trait of fixing our purposes and doing away with that vacillating mind which all Benedicts are cursed with.
But enough of this. I do not propose to try to influence you to enter the matrimonial state, so will change the subject and commence anew upon my own occupation which is simply farming. This I know you do not envy me, but it has its pleasures as well as everything else. But even to wave these one cannot always consistently follow that which suits his own taste the best. I entered here for the purpose of making money on the investment and partly (for I then intended to go to California) vulgarly speaking, for the purpose of laying a nest egg to fall back on provided I failed in that expedition. I came up here for the purpose of improving ,y land so that I could sell it. I have since I came built two houses, broke up 250 acres, and fenced (or will have fenced this spring) about 450 acres. Am beginning to make some money on it. I got off from it last year (rent and all) 1400 bushels of wheat, 450 of oats, and somewhere between 1000 and two thousand bushels of corn & sold $230 worth of pork. But last year was an extra good year. I do not expect the same next.
I have my farm dived by a road running through it into three farms—one of 160 acres, one 295 acres, one 282 acres. I live on the largest, The all have plenty of water (springs) and good meadow and upland. I shall endeavor to sell the two smallest this summer. There is a railroad coming which will get within 7 miles of me this summer & will finally pass within two miles of me. I think under the excitement which generally precedes a road, that I will have no trouble in selling. I shall probably not sell the other farm until the times become more settled.
My oldest little buck (Ewing) has just come in and says tell his uncle to come home next week and bring him some candy and raisons and apples.
Although I have but little doubt about the final political and National result of our present struggle, still it is very difficult forming an opinion as to the financial or commercial result. Thus, had I everything in greenback, I would not known to invest in outside of farming that would not be attended with considerable risk. At farming, we are sure of enough to eat and drink. By the bye, how do you stand upon our present political troubles and if you stand by the old flag, who are your choice for the next standard bearer? Has the daring Path Finder Fremont ot that sturdy unconditional man Butler lost cast in your eyes? Some dislike them because they use too hard a club, but they are favorites here and among the soldiers. We cannot see the necessity of exposing ourselves to the bite of a serpent and using a feather to kill him when there is a good stout club convenient. We believe that the feather and red tape arrangement has cost us more money and men that would quell two rebellions.
Now for local news. I will begin with Uncle Amasa. Poor uncle. He is no better nor do I expect he ever will be. Better death a thousand times than to be in his situation. Mother has very good health. Has just returned from making us a long visit. Uncle Mc. came up after her. His health is also good. Baily and wife and two little girls were out here today. They are all well and prospering. Ben is at Vicksburg. Thinks hard of you because you do not write him. Write him by all means.
Sam is here and at Colesburg off and on. He starts next month to Massachusetts to accept a situation offered him in a factory. Uncle Charles is at Chatfield. I think he has lost much of his tack as a business man. Will trust any damned cuss that will put on a good face and then surse the whole worth as a damned set of thieving Yankees. Lute Glasgow died in Chatfield last summer. Uncle Ephraim and Aunt Mary are now in Colesburg. Uncle E. is so tight, he can’t hardly shut his eyes for fear he will lose a chance to make a penny.
Perry Perkins and wife are now stopping at Uncle Mc.’s. Reny is in very poor health. Jerrymah Page was arried again a few days ago. Potts family were all well the last I heard from them. McKeay is going to Idaho. Jim Simmons is worse off than nothing and don’t try to be any better. Old Dad Mallory & Wiltse have both married new wives. Give love to [ ] and a welcome home to both of you whenever you find time to come.
The following letters were written by Thomas Goakey (1844-1883) who enlisted in Co. C, 55th Illinois Infantry, on 5 January 1864. According to his military record, Thomas was wounded in the fighting near Atlanta, Georgia, on 3 August 1864 but recovered and joined his regiment at Goldsboro, North Carolina. He mustered out of the regiment at Little Rock, Arkansas, on 14 August 1865.
Thomas was the son of Justin Goakey (1783-1871) and Mary Eliza Hudson (1815-1887) of Harrison, Winnebago county, Illinois.
Letter 1
March 17, 1864
My dear Sister,
I take my pen in hand to let you know that I am well at present and hope these few lines will find you enjoying the same health at present.
Josephine, I will tell you what happened between here and Nashville. The train was captured at Murfreesboro and it was burnt up as we learn here. Gus is well and Henry too and all the other boys.
I received your letter March the 5th. No more at present. From Thomas Goakey
So goodbye. I send my best respects to all enquiring friends.
Letter 2
Dallas, Georgia May 31, 1864
Dear Brother,
I take the opportunity to write you a few lines today to let you know that I am well at present and hoping these few lines will find you the same as it leaves me at present.
Oh Joe, they have been very heavy fighting here day before yesterday and night before last. The rebels charged on our works and they were nicely piled up here them for they were cut down like grass with a scythe and the soon scaddle [skedaddle] back on double quick times.
Joe, I got your letter May 15th. I was at Snakes Gap near Resaca, Georgia, about four or five miles from the battlefield and I am today about two miles in the rear guarding the Division trains. Oh, Joe, they is heavy skirmishing today.
Joe, tell Mother and Father that I am well and rugged. Never had better health in my life than I have now.
No more at present. From Thomas Goakey
Do goodbye for this time.
Letter 3
Big Shanty, Georgia June 14, 1864
Dear Mother,
I take my pen in hand to address you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope these few lines will find you in the same [health] as it leaves me at present time.
Mother, I have got two letters from home since the Seventeen of April and I don’t see what is the matter—the mail, or [un]less there is no one to home to write to us down here, or what is the matter with it. Mother, are you all dead or all alive? I am sure that I don’t know what is the matter with you and the rest of the folks for I am one of the boys.
Mother, how does Joe and Elic get along with the work and how [do] the crops look? And how does Old Irish Settlement get along this season? Are they quiet yet, or not?
So goodbye for this time. No more. From your son, — Thomas Goakey
I send my respects to all enquiring friends. Direct your letters to Thomas Goakey, Co. C, 55th Regt. Illinois Infantry, 2nd Division, 1st Brigade, 15th Army Corps
Letter 4
January 1st 1865
Dear Father,
Sir, it is with pleasure that I take my pen in hand to let you know how I am at present and hope these few lines will find you the same as it leaves me, Father, I have not seen Gus yet but I hope that I will see him before long in nothing happens before long, and I think they won’t for there is a fair prospect to go to the boys before long. And if they is, I think that I will start for them soon as I can get out of this God forsaken hole for this place is th last place that God ever made for it is the crumbs of the leaving of the rest for it is in the valley of the valleys. No more at present.
January 6th, 1865
My dear father, I take my pen in hand to let you know that I am in the hospital at present and I am about as well as I was when I left you the last time at home. Father, I just have signed the pay roll this morning for two months pay and as soon as I get it I will send some of it to you by Express and if you need it, you can use it as soon as you get it for anything.
Father, I have not done a bit of duty since I left home on the 15th day of November. I have fared hard since I left home this last time for the road was cut and we fare slim for awhile. But now we are faring very well at present for we have all that we want to hear here now.
So no more at present. From your son, — Thomas Goakey
So goodbye for this time.
Letter 5
Goldsboro, North Carolina March 29, 1865
Dear Father,
It is with pleasure that I find myself seated down to write you a few lines. Mother, I am well at present and hope that these few lines will find you the same as it leaves me at this time. I received your kind and welcome letter Sunday the 26th day of March with two dollars in it and was glad to get it. I have received a letter from Josephine and one from Elic and was very glad to hear from them.
Mother, give me the reason why you don’t want me to write to them or less it is on the sly. If that is the matter, I want to know it so that I can write and give them another address so their man won’t find it out for a bit longer who it is.
Mother I have seen Gus and he is well at present and he says that he had a good time on the march through Georgia and South and North Carolina and that is enough. Tell Mary that she can’t expect much of a letter from me at this time so she will not feel bad for I have not got time to write to all of them at once. I send [my] best respects to all inquiring friends. So goodbye.
No more at present. From your son, — Thomas Goakey
To his mother, Eliza Goakey
Direct your letter to the company and regiment.
Letter 6
Camp near Richmond, Va. May 11, 1865
Dear Mother,
It is with pleasure that I take my pen in hand to write to you once more and to let you know that I am well at present and hope these few lines will find you the same as it leaves me at this time. Gus is well too and we expect to start for Washington City in a day or two and we don’t know how long we will stay there. We are to be reviewed there and then we will muster out of the service in a few weeks and then I think we will be at home by the 4th day of July 1865.
No more at present for this time. From your son, — Thomas Goakey to his mother
So goodbye for this time.
Letter 7
Louisville, Kentucky June 10, 1865
Dear Mother,
It is with pleasure that I take my pen in hand to inform you how I am at this time. I have a bad cold and that is all. Gus is well too and hope that these few lines will find you the same as it leaves me at this time. Mother, we are to be paid in a few days and then I will send part of it home and keep part of it to but a few postage stamps.
I send to you so you and the rest can write once or twice a week for you must not think that we are going home tight off for we can’t so that little thing when we are a mind to.
I must bring my letter to a close by saying write soon as you get this. From your son, — Thomas Goakey
To his mother, Eliza Goakey. Direct to Louisville, Ky.
I could not find an image of Gus but here is a CDV of Henry Joslin who also served in Co. C, 55th Illinois Infantry (Austin Sundtrom Collection)
The following letters were written by Augustus (“Gus”) C. Goakey (1838-1911), the son of Justin Goakey (1783-1871) and Mary Eliza Hudson (1815-1887) of Burritt township, Winnebago county, Illinois.
Augustus was mustered into Co. C, 55th Illinois Infantry in October 1861. At the time of his enlistment he was described as a 5′ 8″ tall, black-haired, black-eyed, 23 year-old farmer. He mustered out on 24 August 1865.
Gus’ obituary states that he was in “some of the notable engagement and most hotly contested battles” in the Civil War. “He was for 120 consecutive days under the fire of the enemy, all of which is recorded on his discharge” papers. “He joined Sherman’s ranks at the beginning of the eventful campaign…and remained with him until the army was mustered out at Washington D. C.
[Note: These letters are from the personal collection of Austin Sundstrom are were transcribed and published on Spared & Shred by express consent.]
Letter 1
Memphis, Tennessee August 5th 1862
Ever remembered Mother,
Once more I take time to write a few lines to you to let you know where I am. Well, I am in the army yet and in Memphis—that stronghold of the rebels. But it did not prove so strong as they thought it would at that time. I am well as can be expected after our long & wearied marches. I got somewhat wore out then but am getting better fast now. It is pretty hot weather here but we do not have much to do here for for the Niggers do all the work on the fort and let the soldiers rest & recruit up. There is no special news to write this time.
Tell Jule that job of Riley’s was to her two hundred dollars.
The fruit down here is ripe and fit to eat so we get all we can eat of the fruit.
The reason why I did not write any sooner was because we was on the march all the time & could not mail a letter if I did write. The regiment is more healthier than it was two months ago.
Give my best respects to all the folks. Write soon. Direct your letters to Memphis.
— Augustus Goakey
Letter 2
Camp Opposite Vicksburg February 21, 1863
Dear Mother,
I now take the opportunity of letting you know that I am well and hope that these few lines will find you enjoying the same blessing of life.
I received your kind letter last Tuesday and was very much pleased to hear from you. I was pleased to hear your health was so good. If I was at hom now I would change someway or another so that we could get along better. It comes very hard to me to hear in almost every letter that I get to hear that you have so much fuss with Jule. I may get home some day or another to settle all this trouble.
Tell Thomas to do the best he can. Tell the whole three of the boys to stick together as brothers should so and not be fighting and quarreling all the time. I thought that I had a brother once but now he is worse than a stranger to me. And tell Tom and the rest not to serve one another in this way. Tell them all—Jule with the rest—that they will not get mad over what money I send home hereafter.
If you can get some postage stamps handy, send me some for they are very scarce down here.
It has been very bad weather here for the last two weeks. It rains nearly all the time. No more at present. Write soon. I remain your son, — Augustus
Letter 3
Goldsboro, Ga. [should be North Carolina] April [?] 1865
My dear beloved Mother,
With pleasure I take this present occasion of addressing you these few lines to inform you that I am well at this present time. Still hoping that these few lines may find you enjoying the same good blessing.
I received a letter from you a few days ago. I was glad to hear from you. I have not had the opportunity to write sooner.
We left Beaufort on the 27th of January. We had quite a difficult march through swamps and [ ]. We had to fight the enemy in a great many places. We are now at Goldsboro, N. C. You will think that the enemy are very strong but they are not. You have a great many conflicting reports from Richmond. I think that when we make two more marches, this war will be over. I don’t think that our troubles will last long. O am in hopes that I will be home in 2 or 3 months. If not in that time, I will in two years.
I got a letter from my brother Joseph. He is at Memphis, Tennessee. He was well at the time.
Jones is now with me. It is a great comfort to me to be with him. He is well and hearty. Charles was here to see me since we was here. He is well. I will write to my sister and I’ll see if she will answer it. You will please send me 50 cents postage stamps. If I don’t write often, I have not forgotten the dear ones I left behind me when I come in the army.
I will close for the present. I still remain your true and affectionate son, — Gust Goakey
I could not find an image of Jonathan but here is a double 6th plate tintype of Pvt. John J. Wisner of Co, K, 151st PA—a Reading, Pennsylvania boatman before the war. After his 9 month term in the 151st expired in July, 1863, he enlisted in the 46th PA and participated in the Atlanta Campaign and Sherman’s March. By the early 20th Century, Wisner was declared by his wife to be “insane” with his “mind such a blank that she [could] not obtain from him the names of his comrades or anything related to his service.” He died in 1919. (Charles T. Joyce Collection)
The following letters were written by 18 year-old Jonathan S. Ebling (1844-1925), the son of Jacob G. Ebling (1821-1860) and Maria Stamm (1813-1883) of Berks county, Pennsylvania. Jonathan wrote the first letter to his sister Mary E. Ebling (1845-1870) not long after his enlistment in Co. G, 151st Pennsylvania Infantry. This regiment was raised in the fall of 1862 and mustered for nine months’ Federal service on 4 November 1862 at Harrisburg.
The regiment did not experience their first engagement with the enemy until the Chancellorsville Campaign while they were attached to Reynold’s 1st Corps. The corps duty during the campaign was to create a diversion near Fredericksburg while the rest of Hooker’s army made a flank move on the rebels. But when rebel batteries opened on the 1st Corps from across the Rappahannock river, some men of the untested 151st to break ranks and run for cover. The 1st Corps later guarded the river crossing at United States Ford while Union troops were withdrawn.
The regiment finally had the opportunity to test its mettle at the Battle of Gettysburg where they were engaged in the first day’s fighting on McPherson Ridge and later, on the third day, in repulsing Pickett’s charge. Days later, they were discharged from duty, their term of service expired. After the war, they were sometimes referred to as the “Schoolteachers’ Regiment” due to its war-time enrollment of at least sixty teachers.
Letter 1
Camp Simon October 13th 1862
Dear Sister,
I thought it proper to set myself and write a few lines to you for I know that you are very anxious to hear from me and I like it pretty well but we ain’t got such a good table as we had in Reading. But we won’t hunger. We get good bread but very hard crackers. But them we soften up in our coffee. We get good coffee and sugar enough to put in. We have got some ham cooked off but for this dinner we have some fresh meat and some potatoes and we get bean soup and rice [ ] and soup.
There was about 7,000 soldiers came in the camp on Sunday that were gone up to Chambersburg on Saturday and night.
I would not take ten dollars for all that I have seen already if I should not see it. We have tents where we live in and each one is got a new good blanket and there is six in each tent. I and George Kershner and Lewis Kershner and Christian Koenig and William Stamm and Jonathan Kreitz. We six are at home in one tent and your cakes we eat on Sunday dinner. They all said they were so good but we can buy cakes and pies and all such kind of things. We have a store in the camp. But our uniforms, we can’t tell when we [will] get them.
On Sunday we had a preacher and we had a kind of a meeting. We have good times here. We did not drill yet. We just loaf about in the camp. Our camp is about one mile on the other side of Harrisburg near the Susquehanna River.
This is all for this time. I will write soon again but don’t forget to write soon back. Directions on the other side.
Jonathan S. Ebling, Camp Simon, Harrisburg, in care of Capt. H. Weand
Letter 2
Adressed to Mr. Jacob G. Ebling, Reading, Berks county, Pennsylvania, in care of Wm. Frey
Camp Allen near Falmouth, Virginia April 23, 1863
Dear Father,
Sir, I received your letter this hour and so I thought to answer it right away being you did not receive my last, I was waiting for an answer this long time on my last letter and I can’t see what the reason is that you did not get the letter for I am sure that I directed it right. But there goes a good many lost. But I hope you will receive it this time and marching orders we have a good while already and we made a good raid already too. On Monday the 20th we received two months pay in the forenoon we got paid out.
Well then in the afternoon at about three o’clock we got orders to get ready in fifteen minutes time with our belting overcoat and gum blanket and rifle. We then started as soon as we were ready and it was raining very fast. We thought there was something wrong at the picket line but when we came there, it was all right yet so far but we stopped and waited for the rest of the Division. We was the first regiment on the ground. We then started off under General Doubleday, commander of the 3rd Division, and marched the whole night till 3 o’clock next morning and wading through the mud and water up to our knees.
We were then resting ourselves in about the woods till daylight. We then seen that we were near a town which they call Port Conway that is on this side of the Rappahannock and on the other side is called Port Royal. We then gave orders that they must leave in a short time or we would tell them where they are at home but they moved off quickly. We had our pontoon bridges along for to cross the river, We was laying there the whole day then till about 8 o’clock in the evening, then we started off for our homes again. The idea of it was that we should go there and make as if we was going to cross for to draw a good force of the Rebels there from Fredericksburg and then they would pitch into them at Fredericksburg and try to chase them away from there but Old Hooker would not move the batteries. The mud was too deep and now it was all for nothing.
We made big fires before we left so that they should think we was there yet and they say they shelled the woods there the other morning like forty. So no more for this time.
I am well at present time. Hope you are the same. — J. S. Ebling
The following letter was written by Waldo Spear (1843-1907), the son of Hiram Spear (1810-1872) and Lucy Ripley (1806-1893) of Springfield township, Bradford county, Pennsylvania. Waldo enlisted in Co. C, 7th Pennsylvania Volunteer Cavalry in October 1861 and participated in battles at Lebanon, Murfreesboro, McMinnville, and Gallatin where he was taken prisoner on 25 August 1862. He was paroled because of his injuries and, when exchanged, was detailed as a courier of the 2nd Cavalry Division, Army of the Cumberland, in which capacity he served until 28 December 1864 when he was honorably discharged.
After his discharge, he returned to Pennsylvania for a short time and then moved to Mardin in Tioga county where he farmed for 17 years. In 1883 he purchased a store in East Charleston.
Four hard-riding troopers from Co. F, 7th Pennsylvania Cavalry; from left to right, Richard Fotheringile, John Coughlin, William Smith, and Llewellyn Llewellyn.
Transcription
Camp Parole September 14, 1862
Dear Parents & Brothers,
I am looking for an answer to my two letters which I wrote to you as soon as I arrived in Annapolis. I don’t think they have been miscarried for other letters have come from Troy and East Troy. I am very anxious to hear from you and William and all of you. I want to hear how William got home and if he got well. Tell me who is enlisting in Springfield. There must be a good many that I know. Tell Ned that if the rebels get up there, he must take the old shot gun and Bushwhack ’em, and if Old Stonewall ever gets into Pennsylvania, I am going home and fight on my own hook.
Our commander said he thought we would get a chance to go home before a great while. I would like to go home or else go to the regiment again for I don’t like to be laying here doing nothing. We fare worse here than we did in Tennessee for we had plenty of melons, peaches, apples, pears, and green corn there and they are not plenty here. But we can get plenty of grapes and they are longer and sweeter than any I ever saw before. We have to go a half mile for water and it is not good then.
We have not heard from our regiment since we were taken prisoners—only that they went to Nashville. Since that, we have heard that Nashville was evacuated by order of Gen. Buell. Tell me how many volunteers Capt. [Benjamin S.] Dartt has got since he has been in Bradford County. If you see him, tell him that Lieut. [Charles L.] Green was one of the coolest and bravest men on the battlefield and General [Richard Woodhouse] Johnson was a traitor and tried to give up the whole command but did not make it out for our Colonel [George C. Wynkoop] told the boys to follow him and he cut his way out, but not until Gen. Johnson had surrendered. 1
I want you to write soon and tell Marcus Gates that I have written to him twice but have not received an answer yet and I have written to Uncle Dwight once.
Direct your letters to Waldo Speer
Camp Parole, Annapolis, Maryland, Co. C, 7th P. V. Cavalry
1 Waldo’s description of the fight at Gallatin against Morgan’s cavalry in August 1862 rings true. Another member of the regiment wrote of it: “General Johnson, steadily repressing the desire of his subordinate officers to charge vigorously, for his men instead, in line, under fore, after the manner of infantry; in a few minutes ordered a retrograde movement over an open field; dismounted the men, and ordered an advance on foot, each man leading his horse; mounted them again to fall back; divided the command and sent each company to a detached and isolated position, all under fire of the entire rebel force, and held them thus until nearly surrounded, when he drew all together and ordered a retreat. At this stage of the battle I was shot and left on the field, but, from reliable sources, I learn that after retreating about two miles, the command was halted, dismounted, formed in line and held in check until the flanks were turned, when another retreat was ordered in which Lieut. Nicholas A. Wynkoop, son of the Colonel, Battalion Adjutant, and at the time, acting Aide-de-Camp to General Johnson, was killed. Arrived near the Cumberland river, another line was formed, dismounted, the flanks being entirely unguarded, Morgan was enabled to throw forces to the rear to cut off retreat, and pressed heavily on all sides, when General Johnson surrendered. When it became manifest that the General purposed to yield to the enemy, Colonel Wynkoop gathered together such of his command as he could mount, and with Colonel [Robert Kline] of the 3rd Indiana, assuming a bold front, succeeded in cutting his way out and reached Nashville. The loss in the brigade was about 40 killed, and 300 wounded and captured. The weather being warm, many of the wounded died in rebel hands…”
The following letter was written by William Wallace Hanscom (1839-1888) the son of Isaiah Hanscom (1815-1880) and Sarah Cutts Frost (1812-1865) of Kittery, York county, Maine. The letter was datelined from the Navy Yard at Mare Island, California, where “Wallace” had arrived some six weeks earlier in company with his mother and his younger brother, Weldon LeRoy Hanscom (1843-1919) after a journey of 25 days via two steamships and a train across the Isthmus of Panama.
Researching the Hanscom family, I discovered that the entire family had relocated from Maine to California in July 1854—three years earlier—where Wallace’s father found employment supervising the construction of dry docks and railway at Vallejo for the US Government. Wallace’s older brother, John O. Hanscom also worked on the same project for his father. In 1857, John left for San Francisco to take a job with Goddard and Company in the machinery and foundry business.
So it appears this letter described the return trip to San Francisco from a visit East to visit family and friends, most likely. In the 1880 US Census, Wallace was enumerated in San Francisco employed as an Engineer.
One of the more curious observations made by Wallace during this journey occurred when their steamer stopped in Kingston, Jamaica, to take on a load of coal. “There is one circumstance which to a New Englander seems rather strange [and] that is the manner in which labor is performed. That is [done] altogether by females—even carrying coal on board the vessel is performed by them by carrying it on their heads in half barrel tubs, while the males merely go around selling fruit or baskets or some such light work as that.”
Transcription
Navy Yard Mare Island, California September 10, 1857
Dear Madam,
Have you ever written the first letter to a stranger. If so, perhaps you can imagine my thoughts just at this moment when you try to think of the most suitable manner in which to commence, when one particular form continually arises before your imagination yet your mind convinces you that it is unfit. Such is my position. Therefore, let not this commencement surprise you as strange for I may write stranger things for I am considered by some as strange—and in fact I know I am in some things, yet there is a certain feeling which controls me and cannot be put aside.
Perhaps some of the incidents of our voyage from New York to San Francisco may be interesting to you, although if you examine the September number of “Putnam’s Monthly,” you may find it more interesting as I understand that is to be published in that magazine. We sailed from New York on the 6th of July with about 50 passengers in the first cabin, 150 in the second, and about 200 in the steerage which all together amounted to about 400 and which was very fortunate and pleasant—they the most quiet set of passengers which was ever on that steamer Illinois.
On the 13th of July we arrived at Kingston, Island of Jamaica, after a pleasant voyage of 7 days, for the purpose of taking on board 400 tons of coal which detained us about 16 hours. In the meantime several of the passengers including myself started from the vessel on a tour through the city as all the passengers went on shore. After traveling about a few minutes—for the sun was so hot that we were glad to get into the shade—we called at the house of an English lady who agreed to get up a dinner for us, or our party which consisted of 18 persons, and after waiting about four hours, we sat down to a fine dinner including almost all the fruits natural to the tropical climate.
After dinner, it then being about 5 o’clock, the male portion of the party took a troll around the city, it then being cool and comfortable walking after which I proceeded on board of the steamer and after a short while the rest came. Immense quantities of fruit were brought on the wharf near the vessel for the passengers to purchase of they chose, and which of course was done.
Kingston women coaling a steamer in Jamaica.
There is one circumstance which to a New Englander seems rather strange [and] that is the manner in which labor is performed. That is [done] altogether by females—even carrying coal on board the vessel is performed by them by carrying it on their heads in half barrel tubs, while the males merely go around selling fruit or baskets or some such light work as that.
On the morning of the 14th of July at 4 o’clock in the morning, a signal gun was fired warning the passengers to be on board and at 5 o’clock the steamer left the wharf of Kingston for Aspinwall which place we reached at about 7:30 o’clock p.m. of July 16th when we immediately went on shore to stop at the hotel. As the only chance which they have of doing business is on the arrival of a steamer, we of course had to go on shore and at our own expense obtain rooms for the night and breakfast in the morning. As the cars started to cross the Isthmus on the next morning at 8 o’clock, I accordingly engaged room for Mother, self, and Weldon at the most moderate price of $3.00 each. But of course we had to stop on shore and whatever was charged, we had to pay.
Next morning at 8 o’clock we left Aspinwall in the cars for Panama where we arrived at 11 o’clock and were immediately taken on board the steamer Golden Age by a small steamboat, as the water was not deep enough to allow the Age to come to the wharf. We sailed from Panama that afternoon at 6 o’clock and at 8 o’clock on the morning of the 24th, we arrived at Acapulco where we stopped about 5 hours for the purpose of taking on board provisions and coal. We sailed from there at 1 o’clock p.m. and the next afternoon at 4 o’clock we arrived at the Port of Manzanillo where we took on board $400,000 in silver bars and coin. 1
We left there in about two hours and arrived safely at the City of San Francisco at 1:30 o’clock Friday morning, July 31st after a most pleasant passage of 25 days.
At the present time we are settled down at the Navy Yard with a prospect of stopping here for some time. Brother John is at present in San Francisco where it was my intention to go had not I been taken sick with Panama fever from the effects of which it will probably take me some six months to recover. But my letter is getting to a most tedious length, therefore I will close.
Truly your humble servant, — W. Wallace Hanscom
P. S. Please accept the kind regard of my Father & Mother for yourself and all who may inquire. — W. W. H.
1 There were silver mines in this region of Mexico.
I could not find an image of John Clark or Lewis Wright but here is one of Lt. Col. Paris P. Henderson of the 10th Iowa who also signed the note. (Iowa Civil War Images)
Twenty-two year-old Lewis Wright (1841-1864) was a battle-tested veteran of Co. H, 10th Iowa Infantry when he and others of his regiment stormed up Mission Ridge in November 1863. Earlier that year, on 16 May, he was wounded in the chest during a battle at Champion Hill, Mississippi. In the assault on Mission Ridge, however, his wound was much more severe. His left arm was dangled by his side as he was taken from the battlefield and transported to a field hospital where it was removed later that day.
The following note attesting to Wright’s battle wound while “in the line of duty” was written by 23 year-old John H. Clark of Rippey, Iowa, who served early in the war as 1st Sergeant of Co. H. Like Wright, he was wounded in the fighting at Champion Hill but recovered and was promoted to captain of the company on 11 August 1863, skipping right over the rank of lieutenant. Also signing the note, approving its accuracy, was Paris P. Henderson, formerly the captain of Co. G, and recently appointed to lieutenant-colonel of the regiment.
The reason for the note isn’t clear unless Lewis deemed it prudent to obtain as proof of service for a pension that would be due his family should he die from his wound. Though Lewis mustered out after three years service in September 1864, he died two months later at home and was buried in the Fair Oaks Cemetery next to his parents, Silas Wright (1816-1872) and Mariah Hurley (1816-1883) of Scranton, Greene county, Iowa.
Transcription
Addressed to Mr. Lewis Wright, Cumberland Hospital, 3rd Division, Nashville, Tennessee
I certify on honor that the bearer, Lewis Wright, a private of Co. H, 10th Regiment Iowa Infantry Vols., was on the 25th day of November 1863 at the Battle of Mission Ridge, Tennessee, wounded in the left arm and that his arm was amputated in Field Hospital at that place on 25th day of November 1863 and that said wound was received in line of his duty.
— John H. Clark, Capt, 10th Iowa Infantry, Commanding Co. H
Approved, P. P. Henderson, Lieut. Colonel, Commanding 10th Iowa
The following letter was written by H. Alvin Hitchcock (1841-1864, the youngest son of Otis Hitchcock (1795-1873) and Sarah Delano (1796-1877) of Randolph, Cattaraugus county, New York.
I could not find an image of Alvin but here is one of Eason W. Bull who served in Co. D, 154th New York Infantry
Alvin was 21 years old when he enlisted in August 1862 as a private in Co. A, 154th New York Infantry. When he enlisted, he was described as a brown-haired, blue-eyed, single farmer. The 154th New York was recruited in the counties of Chautauqua and Cattaraugus, organized at Jamestown, mustered into the U. S. service on Sept. 24-26, 1862 and left the state shortly afterward. They were assigned to the 1st brigade, 2nd (Steinwehr’s) division, Howard’s 11th corps, which was stationed during the fall of 1862 in Northern Virginia in the vicinity of Centerville. The regiment went into winter quarters with the corps at Stafford, Va., and suffered severely in the disaster which befell the corps at the Battle of Chancellorsville, losing 32 killed, 81 wounded and 115 captured and missing.
In his letter, Alvin gives a detailed eyewitness account of the Battle of Chancellorsville, from the time that his company helped the 15th New York Engineers lay the canvass pontoon bridge over the Rappahannock river at Kelly’s Ford, until his capture on the day after Stonewall Jackson’s flank attack that rolled up the 11th Corps. From his letter we learn that he was wounded while standing with others of the 154th New York on the “Buschbeck line” which held back Jackson’s men for over an hour while the high command attempted to stem the chaos of the fleeing soldiers.
For an excellent article describing the events Alvin witnessed and wrote about in his letter, readers are referred to Baptism of Fire: The 154th New York in the Chancellorsville Campaign by Mark H. Dunkelman published on American Battlefield Trust on 1 August 2022. I should also note that Dunkleman devoted an entire chapter to Alvin Hitchcock’s sad story in his book, War’s Relentless Hand: Twelve Tales of Civil War Soldiers (LSU Press, 2006)….After Alvin was exchanged and rejoined the 154th New York, he began to show signs of insanity. He was sent to the Government Hospital for the Insane at Washington, and from there–after a brief visit home–to the New York State Lunatic Asylum in Utica, where he died on July 13, 1864, of “Exhaustion–acute Mania.
Transcription
Addressed to Mr. Otis Hitchcock, Randolph, Cattaraugus county, New York (notice that envelope is mismatched with letter; envelope is postmarked Nashville, TN, and dates to April 1864.
Camp Convalescent Near Alexandria, Virginia [Approx. May 20, 1863]
Dear Parents and friends,
It is with pleasure that I take my pen in hand once more to inform you of my welfare & whereabouts. I am a paroled prisoner of war and I am as well as usual, hoping these few lines will find you all well and enjoying yourselves.
I will try and give you a kind of a description of our spring campaign. We left our winter camp about the middle of April and went to a place called Kelly’s Ford. We lay there in camp about two weeks when we got orders to make an advance on the enemy. Our regiment was ordered out just at night of the 28th of April to go and help lay the pontoon bridge. Our company and one other company were detailed to help the [15th New York] Engineers lay down the bridge & the rest of the regiment crossed over to guard us while we were at work. It was the Rappahannock river that I am speaking of now.
We got the bridge done about 11 o’clock at night and our regiment come back and we went back to camp and stayed till morning. Then we got orders to have three days rations in our haversacks and five more in our knapsacks, making in all eight days rations. And we had to have 60 rounds of cartridges, 40 in our boxes and 20 in our knapsacks. So you see that we were pretty well loaded down with hardtack and lead.
Well we marched down and crossed the river and lay there that day till the next morning. Then we got orders to strike tents and march. Our brigade was guard of the baggage train so you see we had to be in the rear. We marched till noon when we came to the Rapidan river. We crossed on a narrow footbridge but the train had to ford it and it being a very rapid stream, it took till about 4 o’clock p.m. before we got ready to start again. Then we started and marched clear through to where we had the battle before we camped. We marched about 25 miles that [day] by marching till 11 o’clock at night and you better believe that I was a tired boy that night if I ever was.
Well we stayed there till about 3 o’clock the next day. Then we got orders to form in line of battle. We could hear the enemy firing. They were fighting then only about two miles from us. We were marched 20 rods out across the road to another field, then our company and another company had to go and guard the pioneers while they were throwing up breastworks. We had to lay on our arms that night. The rebs were shelling the woods just about 150 rods to our right. We could see and hear the shells burst just as plain as day but the next day was when we had our fun.
[It was] just about 5 o’clock p.m. that Old Stonewall Jackson come in on our rear and you had better believe that we had a rather warm time of it for a little while. I think we were managed rather bad on the start. We were formed in by divisions, closed en masse, and marched in front of our breastworks & ordered to lay down. We lay there about five minutes when we were ordered to fall back to the breastworks. We fell back there & waited till they come up in sight & then we blazed away at them, but they [had] so many more in number than we did that they rushed right up and flanked us both right and left, and we got the order to retreat, and then was when I got hit but it did not lame me much till the next day. So I got off the field and went about a mile and lay down and slept good till the next morning when the rebs made another attack on our men & I happened to be lying right where they come in, so I was right between the two fires. But I was behind an old log from the rebs fire. The balls struck the log pretty freely but I was alright. But it was not long before they had me prisoner. I shall have to close. Write soon. — H. A. H
[to] Otis and Sarah [Hitchcock]
A map of the “Buschbeck line” established by the Federals near Dowdall’s Tavern on the Orange Turnpike where the 154th New York “blazed away” at the rebels.
These two letter were written by William David Burch (1809-1874) and his brother, Landon J. Burch, (1801-1882), the sons of John Long Burch (1759-1834) and Elizabeth Benham (1777-1853) of Barren county, Kentucky. The brothers emigrated from Kentucky to Iowa Territory, Landon about 1838 and William about 1840,
William and Landon both wrote their letters to Robert Harrison Ward (1813-1860), the son of Seth Ward (1770-1815) and Rebecca Griffin (1770-18xx). Robert was first married in Barren county, Kentucky, in 1834 to Elizabeth Ann Nichols. He married 2nd Charlotte O’Neal and moved to Knoxville, Iowa, in the mid 1850s.
William’s letter, datelined from Knoxville, Iowa, contains a lengthy paragraph describing what he called “Iowa Mobocracy”—a kind of pact between the settlers to protect each others land from encroachment by squatters and others looking to take away the claims on which they had made improvements—whether legal or not. Might makes right, in other words. He even describes a posse of men in black face who intercept an interloper and sent him away tarred and feathered.
Letter 1
Addressed to Mr. Robert H. Ward, Glagow, Kentucky
Knoxville, Iowa January 28, 1849
One thing or another has kept me from writing for some time. I have concluded to commence a letter to let you know that we are all alive yet and in good health. Thought I am somewhat afflicted with rheumatism which I think probably is occasioned by the severity of our winter weather. We have had a great deal—the hardest winter that I ever saw in my life. It set in, I think, sometime between the middle and last of November and has been steady cold weather ever since with the exception of a very few days. There has been about 20 inches of snow but it has settled down, I suppose, about four or five inches. Snowstorms have been so frequent that it has been very difficult for people to go to mill or to travel about anywhere, the roads being so filled up.
It has been a hard winter on stock. I believe everybody through this section of country that I have heard of who has any hogs have had more or less of them to die. But today has more the appearance of moderating and turning warm than it has since it commenced. It is pleasant today. The snow is getting soft. I have done no work this winter except getting wood and feeding my stock and in fact, it has not been possible for any person to do anything more. I have about half of my corn standing out yet, which I can’t gather till the snow foes off, and some people prophesies that will not be till sometime in March.
I have no much stock now. I sold four head of cattle last fall (a yoke of two year-old steers, one year-old steer, and a calf) for thirty-one dollars. I have now only five head left, four of them will have calves this spring if they have good luck. I have 32 head of hogs. I had four or five to die this winter and I have two or three more that I think will die yet. My old mare and colt and that is all the stock I have.
This is now the 4th day of February and I feel somewhat in one of my silent ways, like I had not much to say, and like I would rather read two letters than to write one. But nevertheless I have commenced this letter and I will try and write some more, but where you look for news, I fear you will only find something old and dry. And where you look for interesting matter, I fear you will find a blank. But I will try to tell you as well as I can how I am getting along.
I killed plenty of meat to do me this winter. For the first time I have had plenty of my own since I lived here, and if I have common luck with my hogs till next fall, I shall have about two thousand pounds pork to spare. I have entered 40 acres of land which has the most of my little improvements on it. The balance of my claim is not in market yet, nor I can’t tell when it will be but I guess it will be before I am ready for it. The Soldier’s Warrants has been a great advantage to the people of this country. 160 acre warrants can be bought for 125 dollars. There is but little land entered now in any other way though this has been no advantage to me.
I had a notion to write a little to you concerning our Iowa Mobocracy. The people here entered into an article to defend and protect each other in holding their claims and preventing others from entering the land. Some time last summer a man by the name of Majors of Mahaska county entered the claim of a Mr. Gillespie of this county. Gillespie went and offered him the money for the land. Majors would not give the land up. Gillespie raised a small company and went one night to try to make him come into measures. They burned an old corn crib of Majors and done his property some trifling damage. Majors then have his bond for a deed to the land but he went and got out a writ and had one of the men (probably the only one he knew had taken up and carried to Oskaloosa jail (however the man was not put in jail but permitted to go at liberty about town) till the time for his trial. Gillespie then came to Knoxville and raised a company of above 200 men (myself and most of the men in this neighborhood was in the crowd) and went to Oskaloosa to take the man out of jail, as we thought. Seeing this company so determined, Majors withdrew his suit against the man, renewed his bond, and we all came home thinking the matter then settled. Gillespie soon afterwards paid him the money and got orders for his land, but Majors again got out writs for some of the men who had destroyed his property. The sheriff of Mahaska resigned his office rather than to arrest the men. Majors then brought his papers to the sheriff of this county but a company of artificial Negroes caught him and gave him a complete coating of tar and feathers, and made him take his papers back, and I have heard nothing of him since. So much for our mob law. Whether it be right or wrong, I believe that the people here feels like sticking to it and a man is in some danger here to enter another man’s claims.
I am getting my sheet pretty near scribbled over and I feel sensible that there is not half the worth in it that you will have to pay for it. I am getting old (the ninth day of next October, you know, I will be 40) and whereas I used to try to write a good deal of foolishness when I wrote a letter, I now think it would become me more to write something more serious and solid if I could, but it is not in me yet, and therefore, you must not expect to get it out of me. You can’t get blood out of a turnip. I want you to write to me oftener than you do, and think not because I don’t write oftener that I do not want you to write. Write to me as serious as you please, or as funny as you please, so you let me know how you all are getting along there. Tell me whether mama is alive yet, where she is, and how she is doing, and whether you ever hear from dada Elliot and his folks, and what they are all about. Landon and I have been talking about taking a trip to Kentucky to see you all, if we could get our matters arranged right, sometime but my part of it, I reckon is like them Kentuckians who talked of coming to Iowa—“More talk than cider.” But if Landon takes a notion to come, he will be pretty apt to do it and I think if he comes, I will not be far behind him. I will now just quit. The weather remains cold. — W. D. Burch
Letter 2
[Note: Only a partial transcription.]
Marion county, Iowa July 9, 1849
After a long time trying in vain I have found a beginning place once more to write, but I am satisfied now that my letter will be a feeble production and you may well wonder why I have not written before now when I tell you that all of your letters has duly come to hand…
In my last letter I bragged about my bees, hogs, cattle, mill, fruit trees, &c. of which I have no reason yet to trouble or complain though the high water (which was much higher than I ever saw it) injured me a little when the snow went off in March. The cold winter killed some of my peach trees and bees. Also some of my small hogs while I was sick. But all this is no cause of trouble. But in my last letter I bragged on my boy—my oldest boy [Orestes Ducalion Burch] who is now dead—who has been dead more than four months, which loss seems to be the worst that I have ever felt. Yet the hurt is not worse than when we lost our oldest girl [Mantura Elizabeth Burch]— not so bad, for I had not got over that. Neither do I ever expect to. And at the same time, frequently saying, “Why not?” when I have to go the same way so soon.
He and I was both taken sick on the last Friday in February about noon and on Tuesday night following he died. I suppose I was very bad for several days about that time but on the 7th or 8th day after I was taken, I began to mend and after several weeks I was again up and about and am now as stout as common, and the balance of us all well.
I don’t know whether you will excuse my neglect for not writing sooner or not, but if I had written sooner, it might have been a poorer letter (if possible) than this and you are so much disposed to complain of the poor barrenness of my letters that had I a modest respect for myself I should hardly write to you at all… — Landon J. Burch
Spared & Shared 23 