The following letter was written by William B. Glass (1843-1888) who was working as a clerk in Pittsburgh, Allegheny county, Pennsylvania, at the time of his enlistment on 22 August 1862 in Co. F, 155th Pennsylvania Infantry as a corporal. He was promoted to commissary sergeant thereafter. William wrote the letter to his sister Eliza Glass (1830-1900). I believe his father was John P. Glass (1822-1868) who enlisted in April 1861 to serve as captain of Co. A, 74th New York Infantry. He was promoted to Lieut.-Colonel of the regiment in April 1862 but resigned in December 1862.
Artist’s sketch of 155th Penn Vol. private going off to war
The 155th Pennsylvania Volunteers were issued standard union attire, consisting of a dark blue forage cap, a 9- button frock/dress coat (thigh length coat) of the same color with blue piping, 4-button dark blue sack coat, and light blue trousers, and brogans. Later in the war, January 1864, they were outfitted in a Zouave uniform. When they were first organized, they were issued surplus Belgian Rifles with sword bayonets. These weapons upon inspection in Washington, D.C. were determined to be unfit for use in battle, by Captain A.T.A. Torbert, USA. The men of Co. K remarked in their history that “The guns were said to kill at 1,000 yards but on examination we found they would not be dangerous to the enemy unless we got close enough to bayonet or club him” The government then issued old style muzzle loader, “Buck & Ball”, Springfield Rifles, more known as Harper’s Ferry Rifles. These weapons only proved to be effective at very close range, not being much use to the combat of the time. After the Battle of Gettysburg, Colonel Cain who had been requesting more effective weapons for his men, collected newer 1861 Springfields from the thousands of dead union soldiers. Which they would continue to use till the end of the war.
Transcription
Camp near Fredericksburg, Va. December 26th 1862
Dear Eliza,
Christmas is gone and a very dull one it was. We did nothing all day—only eat. Would you like to know what we had for dinner? Well, “Hard Tac,” roast beef, potatoes, and our “Army apple pie.” You don’t know what that is. Well, we take a camp kettle and place a layer of pieces of crackers, then sliced apples, and so on up to the top, then fill it with water and cook dry and brown. This is the best thing I have had since I came out. We had mustard and pepper, &c. and this is the best dinner we have had since we came out to this forsaken country. Father will tell you this was an extra good dinner. The sun was out all day and it was warm and very agreeable.
Billy Adams and the boys did the best they could under the circumstances & we all enjoyed our first Christmas in the Army & we all hope it is the last. You must send me the papers of the 27th and write me all the news. Tell me if father is home & do tell me the news. I received yours and sister’s letters dated Sunday after the battle & this was the last I had from home. It was three weeks before that since I had a letter & now it is two and I have none. I wrote you and Ellie one last week & whenever I have time. The only thing us poor fellows have to think about is, will the mail bring us a letter? And if it don’t, we go to bed down in the mouth. I know Johnnie gets three to my one & so with Billy Adams, Mack, &c. Lizzie, do write. You and Ellie has time in the evenings.
We are going to move camp in a day or two. The Colonel says to go into winter quarters & we will lay inactive all winter. Everybody that I talk to think this war is about ended. The old soldiers are sick of it and the new troops do not relish the idea of being pushed forward into any more traps like Fredericksburg. General Hooker said last night that, “The Army had seen its last battle. The Union Army appeared to him to be in a deep well and the Rebs are keeping guard at the top. Before next spring, something must be done or the contest will not be ended by arms.” This he was heard to say by a Lieutenant last night when responding to the toast, “Success to the Union Army.” They had a great time at headquarters last night and the wine, &c. suffered badly. Hooker is a good man & he said last night “that instead of the officers laughing, they should all be weeping for the condition of the Union.”
I am a great deal better now that I have been for some time, but [George P.] McClelland 1 is still under the weather. He says he feels better today. Adams &c. are very well. By the way, you could get a small bottle filled with ginger and send it to me by mail. Get a half ounce one and fill and send it. It won’t cost much. We often get bottles for boys in the regiment in this way. That list in the Chronicle of the 18th of the wounded in our regiment is right. Tell father Adj. [Edward A.] Montooth is in Pittsburgh & Col. Allen is in Washington & will perhaps go to Pittsburgh.
Give my love to friends. Write soon. Did you get a letter dated Sunday from me? I sent Bob 21 cents in it—all I could scrape up for him. Tell him or he would have got none. Tell him to write me an account of his doings on Christmas. Good night.
In haste. Yours affectionately, — Will B. Glass
Another mail just in and no letter in it for me, but there is two for Ralston, two for Billy Adams, two for Billy Devine, one for McClelland—but poor me has to go to bed knowing that I will have to fo without any hopes for any until the next mail & that will be four days from now. My goodness but I am mad. — “Billy”
The standard uniform of the Oneida Independent Cavalry Company (Military Images, March 2017)
The following letter was written by Addison Gardner Bonney (1841-Aft1880), the orphaned son of Perez Harwood Bonney (1793-1851) and Sybil Covey (1807-1854) of Hamilton, Madison county, New York.
Addison wrote this letter while serving as a corporal in the Oneida Independent Cavalry Company. He mustered into the company on 4 September 1861 and mustered out as a sergeant in September 1864. This company was recruited mainly at Oneida, Salisbury, Stockbridge, Hamilton, Otisco, Eaton, Nelson Flatts, Vienna and Chittenango. It left the State in September, 1861, and served at the headquarters of the Army of the Potomac, performing escort and guard duty, and furnishing couriers, etc.
Addison wrote his letter from the Headquarters of the Army of the Potomac (AOP) at Frederick, Maryland, just days before the Battle of Gettysburg, and on the very day that Gen. Meade replaced Gen. Hooker as the commander of the AOP—though that information was not yet known to him. “Gen. Hooker is a good division general but is not fit to command the Army of the Potomac, and he is no favorite of the army,” confided Addison to his sister.
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Addressed to Miss Byron Powers, Knox Corners, Oneida county, New York
Headquarters Army of the Potomac Frederick, Maryland
June 28, 1863
Dear Sister,
We have traveled sixty miles in the last two days from Fairfax Court House to this place. We will probably remain here for two or three days.
I never knew less of what was going on in the army than at this time. Gen. Hooker is noted for still movements and quiet planning, but we will of course attack the enemy in Pennsylvania in the rear if a battle is fought then.
I have written before of the fine country about here, whereas harvest has commenced. I never saw such splendid fields of wheat before. I think they will yield forty bushels to the acre (without exaggeration).
Our entrance into Frederick yesterday was far from being what it was last year. No cheering ever meets the ear of our General. No handkerchiefs ever wave to welcome the approach of our General. No young ladies of surpassing beauty wait impatiently to salute him with a kiss. Gen. Hooker is a good division general but is not fit to command the Army of the Potomac, and he is no favorite of the army.
I become every day more and more convinced that this is a political war and is carried on by a set of politicians and speculators. And these are hardened and selfish and are totally blinded to the country’s interests and to everything but their own personal benefit.
I am well but am pretty tired from hard riding and little sleep.
I could not find an image of Benjamin but here’s one of Henry Baker who served in Co. H, 141st Pennsylvania Infantry (LOC)
The following letters were written by Benjamin M. Dunham (1840-1863), the son of John L. Dunham (1811-1861) and Laura Cheney (1812-1894) of LaPorte, Sullivan county, Pennsylvania. Benjamin enlisted as a private in Co. K, 141st Pennsylvania Infantry. Benjamin enlisted with his older brother Henry R. Dunham (1838-1877) who was made the 1st Lieutenant of the same company for his efforts in raising the company. However, ill health resulted in his resigning is commission in late December 1862 and returning home where he remained until 1864 when he accepted a commission in Co. E, 13th USCT.
According to the regimental history, Benjamin M. Dunham was a young man of more than ordinary ability and character. Said one who knew him: “He was characterized by untiring energy and intense application to his studies. No lesson or duty was ever assigned that he did not grapple with all his powers. He loved study. He was impetuous almost to a fault. Whatever he did, he did with all his might. His moral character was without reproach. He could be relied on implicitly in all he said or did. He was, in ‘ short, one of Nature’s noblemen, an honest man. His dear remains rest in an unknown grave, on hostile ground, and his spirit has gone to God who gave it.” Benjamin was killed at Chancellorsville.
Letter 1
In Camp near Falmouth, Va. February 24th 1863
My dear Mother,
I yesterday received a letter from you full of your anxious fear about me. I hear nothing from you but a constant lament that I am where I am! Nothing but worriment about & fears that I am suffering here where I am. Now let this be enough for you, Mother, as it ought to be for anyone to know that I am doing well, getting over my lameness, and in fact, I have almost gained my flesh again. I have been on duty and took no cold from it & I hope I am none the worse for it. I asked to be put on [duty], it is true, for I knew there were some who would think I did not want to do [my] duty, but I did and so I went on. And as I said before, I am not sorry.
Now, Mother, what more under the light of Heaven could a son write to a Mother that would be of more cheering—I mean real cheering news—than what I have just written to you which is God’s truth and no deception, for I have not now nor never intended to deceive you. I know, Mother, there is news that I could write that might be more pleasing such as that I was coming home soon or something like this. But do I not tell you, Mother, that if I have my health, which I now hope to get, that I had just as leave be in the army here at such a time as this as at home. Maybe you think I lie, but I tell you that I can stand it here from my friends & family, if old grey-headed men who have children & a wife to think of & long to see, for this is the great, the most difficulty the soldiers has to contend against.
Don’t understand me to say that I like the hardships & hard marching of our life. But Mother, I do say in view of all things now, I—a single man [with] no one to depend on me [and] no one to suffer from my loss if should be the case, and no one’s support arising from my earnings—I say I and those in like circumstances are just the ones to be where I am if they have their health.
Mother, be reasonable! Look about you & see if you can point to another Mother who has three able bodied (for such I am now called & hope Henry is) Republican son who have no wives & little ones, no farms & workshops to hinder their being in the army of our Nation. I say, see if you can find another Mother who still has two sons with her at home all the time. Do you think, Mother, to raise three sons and live to see them all grow to be men & still be with them all & live with them all? It is an impossibility & the sooner you make up your mind to be content & satisfied while your boys are all doing well, the better it will be for you and your health and comfort also. You are almost selfish. You wish us with you & by constantly (except when we are fighting perhaps). But you must expect to be obliged to lay aside your own desires to see & pleasure to be with your boys.
I know this is not altogether what you wish me to come home for but you fear I will die here & then you will never see me again. Mother, does it make any difference about our meeting again in this world (for I have no fears for the next). Whether I die here from disease or you die there from a useless worriment, that does no one any good & hastens your own end. Think of this when you are lying awake nights on my account & if you wish to do anything to please me & make me happy and contented here with my lot. Why, don’t fret and worry & lie awake nights for me. Will you do this for me? Will you let this ring in your ears every time your mind turns upon me. Or will you still do that which is the farthest from my wishes of anything you can do? If you will, why then I cannot help it.
Again, my complaint (diarrhea & rheumatism), Mother, is not a thing you need to worry about at all. Why, do you not know that those who die with the chronic diarrhea live for four or five months & that there is no need of men to be sick that long in this army and not be sent home. As to the rheumatism, I do not fear death from that at all. So be contented & satisfied with your lot.
Mother, as to what you say about getting into this army, you did not such thing at all. I came of my own free will & you never asked me to come at all so I want you never to think of that again. Oh! you are a queer woman, Mother, & I hope you will try and exercise a little more your reasoning & relective faculties a little more & your caution a little less and it will be better for us both.
Our Captain has returned & I like him very much indeed so far & all the boys seem to almost worship him. We have just received orders to be ready to move over into Ward’s Brigade & the 4th Maine is to come into our Brigade. It is but a few rods between us. The trade is from some cause, I know not what. Time will tell.
Brewster, I think, will come home on a furlough but I do not know whether he can get it or not. Hank Gunn too, if he’s able. I shall try and get one if I can but I have little hopes as there is so many ahead of me. Do not build up any hopes of my coming home this winter.
An J. H. Winslow silver watch with engraving of soldier, perhaps like the one Benjamin purchased.
I yesterday received returns from my little investment (J. H. Winslow and Co., of New York) and I have me a larger patent lever silver watch and gold chain for which I have been offered $20 in cash besides selling some ten dollars worth of tickets to the boys and keeping for myself a ticket that calls for a watch worth fifteen dollars & ever so many other tickets calling for articles valued at eight and ten dollars. In fact, Mother, I have an agency here from which I can make double my wages & do it just as honestly as anything else.
So be content. Be satisfied & do not for God’s sake, kill yourself by worrying yourself about me. Have you any help yet? I will send you a circular of J. H. Winslow & you can see what I am doing. — B. M. Dunham
Letter 2
Stoneman’s Switch in May 1863.
[Note: This letter is from the personal collection of Keith Fleckner and was offered for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.]
In Camp near Stoneman’s Switch Wednesday, April 8th 1863
My Dear Mother–
I have at last succeeded in getting you a picture which I hope will be satisfactory to all. I think if you compare this with those taken before I left home, you will find I am still “the same old six pence.” I have the locket filled which I think will be—or at least I hope will be—satisfactory to you also. I have been asked by several for pictures and all want photographs which I cannot get here in the army as there is no one who takes them on this side of the Potomac that I know of. The only way I can think of to get them is to send this to [ ] with Edwin and let Mr. Wood copy it. Then when you get a negative, I suppose you know you can get as many as you choose & give them to whom you choose. If you think this one not large enough, I will get a half-sized picture and let that be used in its stead.
Mother, have you received that package of old letters I sent home some time ago but have not heard from them. I do hope they are not lost for I value them too highly to lose them now. I wrote to Edwin day before yesterday. Have you received that yet? I have just received your letter of March 31st also. I am very glad to say it was the most encouraging thing I have had for many a day. It cheered my feelings very much & I hope I will not run to enquirer “if there is any letters for me” very often without being answered in the affirmative.
Well Mother, I have seen Honest Old Abe, President of these Dis-United States and I consider it one of the greatest treats I have had since I left Little Sullivan. As you are aware if you have read my letter to Edwin, this Brigade is on picket for three days and I was left behind for camp guard. I was relieved yesterday and had the day to myself, so I took a french furlough and went over to Stoneman’s Switch after the pictures I now send to you. While there, I heard the awfullest cheering and shouting heard in all my life and was soon told that the President was with Hooker reviewing the Army, or rather riding around from regiment to regiment as they were drawn up in line to receive them. Out I went and took across the fields on double quick to where I saw a long line of troops drawn up. It was quite a piece but on I went, through mud sometimes nearly to the top of my big boots, but I got there just in time to have him ride close along side of me. He was followed by General Hooker & staff, and one battalion of Rush’s Lancers. (I believe they called them Rush’s Lancers). He was then, at the time I saw him, just reviewing Berdan’s Sharpshooters.
I then turned and went back, and as I crossed the road, I looked behind me and saw him & [ ] coming at a full gallop. I stopped—there was four or six with me—and they did the same. They all fell back from the road and said, “Oh, don’t stand so close! Don’t stand so close.” But I didn’t run all this distance to spoil it all now, so I stood in front and when the honest old fellow came along, I gave him a military salute and he returned it with all the grace imaginable. Three cheers for our President was then proposed, and if I didn’t give my old Methodist lungs rent then, I never did. It raised Old Abe’s hat right off his head and he smiled as pleasantly as you please. It did me good I can tell you, and I guess if he ever hears me cheer again, he will know he has heard me before. When he took off his hat, I could see he looked for all the world just like the pictures of him. He rode a very beautiful horse on which was a very handsome saddle but not a very handsome man. He wore a tall black hat which was put on the back of his head and made him look like an old farmer by the side of the many dashing looking exquisites who call themselves officer who followed him. I saw old Gen. Hooker and a number of other Major Generals I did not know.
I began to think Mother from appearances that we are not agoing to be moved from here right off. I do not think now we will move before the last of this month and perhaps not before June or July owing to the weakening of our army by the leaving of many troops. Both the nine-months men from Pennsylvania and the two-year men from New York leave about the same time which will weaken us until their places are supplied by other troops which will take some time to do—two or three months at least. I will put this in the mail and the locket the next if I cannot get it done up for this one. If I do, I will send it in this. Sam sits here as I write and wishes me to say that he sends his best wishes to you and all the family. I wish to be remembered to all who inquire after me, especially to Mrs. Finch. Tell her I will write to her in a day or two or as soon as I can find time. I wish Aunt Annie would write to me. Has she forgotten me or has she no time to do so as I hope all will write often.
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