The following letters were written by Henry H. Tucker (1837-1904), the son of Levi Tucker (1813-1864) and Melissa Collins (1816-1857) of Essex, Essex county, New York. Henry enlisted 30 Apr 1861 in Co. C, 62nd New York Infantry, sometimes called the “Anderson Zouaves.” This regiment wore distinctive Zouave uniforms and participated in nearly all the major campaigns of the Army of the Potomac including Gettysburg and the Shenandoah Valley. Henry was promoted to Corporal on 15 Mar 1862 and to 1st Sergeant on 29 Feb 1864. He mustered out of the regiment on 29 Jun 1864.

He was in and out of the New York State Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Home in Bath, New York, beginning in October 1895. He was admitted again in August 1999 and was there until his death in December 1904. According to his brother’s family, he was never married, however, documents related to his military hospital stay and 1900 census indicated that he was widowed.

Letter 1

Camp Tenleytown
Division on the Potomac
November 19th 1861

Dear friend Sarah

Your letter was received of this date and what was more pleasing to me than to hear from a friend. I have just returned from 48 hours duty. Our company has been 8 miles into Maryland on grand guard. Most of the families are secessionist. We was there to lookout for spies. We had a good time. Had lots of fun. Guarded a school house and saw all the pretty girls, you know, but I don’t think they can come up with our Northern girls.

I received George Paul’s letter and answered it. Sarah, you said in your letter that you was all alone in the great house [and] that you wished I was with you. Sarah, your wishes in that was not more than mine for I will assure you that I would like to have been sitting by your side. Sarah, you said at every little sound your heart went pitapat. If I had been there, I would like to hear your heart beat as I often have but would not like to see you frightened. Sarah, you thought the war would come to a close soon. I am something of that opinion myself for that naval expedition is giving them all they can tend to. And more too. The news is today that a rebel vessel tried to run the blockade, was catched and they took 5 or 55 million of gold and a good many officers.

Sarah, it is getting cold in our tents now. It is coming winter. The wind blows through our tents. Sarah, you spoke of a pillow and comforter. That was kind of you. We have blankets for comforters. Pillows we have none except a bunch of straw. It is not so comfortable here as it would be at home in a nice feather bed—especially when one has a partner to keep him warm. Sarah, you thought the bread you gave me when I came away was sour. I thought it was very nice and was very thankful for it.

Then the fellow that looks two ways is gone and thinks the girls is too smart for him? Sarah, I have to close for Lieutenant [Horace A.] Pratt has come into our tent raising the Old Harry & I can’t write. Please write soon. So goodbye. My love to all and a kiss for yourself. Yours truly. From your friend, — Henry Tucker

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Letter 2

Camp Tennellytown
January 21, 1862

Dear Sarah,

I received your kind letter. Was glad to hear from you again. I am still enjoying that which makes life a pleasure—good health. Sarah, there has ben a funeral in our regiment this afternoon. Makes another of our men that has died with the fever. It is very sickly here now. It has been raining here for about a week now steady. Is so muddy that we can’t drill or do any duty except guard duty.

Sarah, you spoke of being lonesome in the great house all alone. I know it’s a bad feeling for I have many times been in that way myself. But I hope it is all for the best. I sometimes think if I could only be in Essex just one night—just long enough to drop in and see Sarah a little while and the rest of my old friends—I would be willing to come straight back in the morning. But I find it does no good to wish, as you say. I have often done so. I suppose I might get a furlough to go home if I tried very hard but I don’t want to go for it costs too much. It would cost me 40 dollars to go and come and that won’t pay, you know.

Sarah, there has been a battle across the river since I last wrote you. The report was that there was 1500 of the rebels killed and 500 of our men, but I guess it is not so large as the report was.

Sarah, I don’t think I ever told you in any of my letters about my new tent. We have had them some time. They are larger than out other ones. There is 16 in one of these tents. We have got ours fixed very nice, raised from the ground & got bunks in them to sleep in. We got a lot of boards to make the bunks. We did not steal them but took them—just went along & froze on to them as the fellow said.

Sarah you must excuse this awful scratching for I am in a hurry to go to the funeral. I have been scratching it off like hot cakes. You said Jane did not get my letter. I wrote her two. She must have got them before now. Give her my love. Ask her what she thinks about the next generation. Sarah, write me how long George enlisted for if you know.

No more at present. From your friend, — H. H. T.

Yours with much love. Write soon.