This letter was written by Sereno Bridge (1820-1888), a native of Wilmington, Vermont, who lived there until 1848 when he came to Bureau county, Illinois, with his wife, the former Alice S. Winchester. The letter is only signed, “S. B.” but it came from a collection of his letters.
In September 1861, he enlisted in Co. B, 52nd Illinois Infantry, his muster records describing him as a 5 foot 9 inch tall, black-haired, blue-eyed farmer. Shortly after he must have transferred into Gilbert’s Independent Cavalry. In February he was transferred again into Co. H of the 12th Illinois Cavalry, and then transferred one more time in December 1862 into Co. G of the 15th Illinois Cavalry when that unit was formed. He remained with the 15th Illinois Cavalry until late October 1864 when his three year enlistment expired. This letter was written during the period he was in the 15th Illinois Cavalry which was attached to the 1st Cavalry Division, 16 Corps, Dept. of the Tennessee, though it appears to have been detached and assigned duty in hunting down Confederate guerrillas in eastern Arkansas along the Mississippi River.
The letter was written in diary form and relates his past week’s activities. Chasing Confederate guerrillas (many of whom were local inhabitants) though the swamps, forests, and plantations of rural Arkansas, Bridge is exposed to the ‘human’ side of war as he comes into contact with the families of captured guerrilla soldiers. Digressing from his story of the scout he was on, Sereno wrote his wife: “You at the North can hardly realize what an amount of suffering this war is causing.”
[This letter is from the personal collection of Richard Weiner and was transcribed and published on Spared & Shared by express consent.]
Transcription
Helena, Arkansas
November 9, 1863
Dear Wife,
Another week has passed since I wrote you and now I will record some of the events that have transpired during the time. On Sunday, the 1st day of the present month, I had to help load hay for the horse. On Monday, we had review of the regiment in the forenoon. In the afternoon, we chased three guerrillas about five miles. They came in among the darkey wood choppers. On Tuesday and Wednesday, was on picket.
On Thursday, started on a scout. Went down the river [and] got on the track of about thirty guerrillas. Rode till night, camped on a deserted plantation, stood picket that night by the side of a big swamp and by the noises that the owls, coons, cranes, geese, ducks, and other wild vermin made, reminded me of what I have read about the dismal swamps.
On Friday morning, we started on the trail again. Rode about six miles when the advance came up with some of the guerrillas. They fired some shots at them, then we all gave chase. Run them two or three miles but did not get any of them. They went in amongst the cane brakes and hid. Then we rode on for about four hours through the most dismal looking place that I ever saw. The mud was ankle deep a good part of the way and cane brakes so thick that a bird could not fly through it and so high that we could not see a man on his horse unless we was close on to him.
About noon we came to a crick where the rebels had camped the night before. We followed them so close that they had to leave their wagon, camp kettles, corn meal and some ammunition. We kept after them till we came to a large plantation that stood on the bend of the river. They broke up there and we lost track of them. We had now got forty-five miles from Helena. We camped there for the night. The planter was a strong secesh and had a plenty of corn, cattle, hogs, hens, ducks, geese, honey, &c., so the boys just went in on their nerve and you better believe the feathers flew, hogs squealed, the geese and ducks fluttered, the bee hives disappeared, butter milk was in demand. The women and children cried and I think the old man would have sworn if he had dared to. But let that be as it would, we lived high and slept on corn fodder that night.
Saturday, we came back twenty miles to another plantation that was owned by one of the guerrillas. There was none but blacks on the place but there was what was better for us that was corn, hogs, sweet potatoes, molasses, &c. We camped about noon. In the afternoon, about thirty of us was sent out to reconnoiter. We had not gone far when we came in sight of a guerrilla. We chased him about a mile and took him after firing several shots after him. He was not far from his home. We went to his house. He had a wife and three small children. It made me feel bad to see him part with his family although his wife took it very calmly. He had a little boy a little bigger than Arty 1 that cried very hard. He took his children upon his horse and hugged and kissed them—but so it is. You at the North can hardly realize what an amount of suffering this war is causing.
In coming into camp, I saw an old widow woman. She said she was left all alone with three children, two girls and one boy twelve years old. He was born when she was fifty-seven years old. At another house I saw a woman and asked her how it went with her in these war times. She said badly enough—her husband was in prison and she was left with three small children to take care of and nothing to do it with. But I am getting off from our guerrilla hunt.
Soon after we left the house of the man we had captured, our advance saw two more. They ordered them to halt but they did not so they fired on them and we all started in the chase. We had a pretty exciting chase for half mile or so when we took a lieutenant. The other got away. The next day Sunday we came to camp.
Goodbye, — S. B.
1 Sereno’s son, Arthur (“Arty”) M. Bridge, was born on 14 February 1860.
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