The following letter was Reuben Wheeler Coy (1843-1896), a former student of Genessee Wesleyan College, who enlisted on August 5, 1862, when he was 19 years old as a private in Co. K , 1st New York Mounted Rifles. He was appointed as company bugler and served in the regiment until June 12, 1865, when he was mustered out at Richmond, Va. After the war, he came to Michigan and settled in Elk Rapids where he taught school for one year. He then entered the employ of Dexter and Noble, as a salesman in their store. In 1870, he resigned his position, opened a general store in Helena Township and platted the village of Spencer Creek, now called Alden. A few years later, he built a gristmill at the site of the old gray building on the southeast side of Spencer Creek at Coy Street and subsequently a sawmill. Three years later he married Helen M. Thayer, the daughter of Lucius and Helen Thayer of Clam River. Helena Township was named for Coy’s mother-in-law Mrs. Thayer, the first woman pioneer in the area.
Reuben was the son of Benjamin Chambers Coy (1806-1897) and Caroline Reed (1811-1899) of Livonia, Livingston county, New York. Reuben wrote the letter to his older brother, Justus F. Coy (1840-1920) who enlisted as a sergeant in Co. G, 1st New York Dragoons, and later rose to Captain of his company. He was wounded on 11 June 1864 at Trevillian Station, Virginia. but survived and mustered out of the service in June 1865.
An unidentified bugler from the David Holcomb Collection (Military Images Magazine, June 2021)
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Camp 1st Mounted Rifles N. Y. Volunteers Point of Rocks, Virginia June 20th 1864
Dear brother Justus,
Where under the sun are you, I wonder. You are somewhere under the sun I suppose but that is about as far as my knowledge extends for I have not heard from or about you since the first of May. Grant’s army is here and part of Sheridan’s cavalry also dismounted. I have read about the Dragoons in the papers and suppose now that you are left on the north side of the James to look after prowling bands of rebels.
The cavalry opened the attack on the place and its works. Kautz’s division, the Mounted Rifles, and a brigade of colored infantry were sent out last Tuesday night where Grant’s troops commenced landing here. Our band had to go with the doctor to pick up the wounded. We marched all night and came on the rebel works about broad daylight. The cavalry dismounted as artillery supports and attacked immediately. The 16 shooters of the 3rd New York Cavalry did good service here for they got up into the trees and kept up a continual fire on the rebel gunners so that they could hardly work their pieces. But we failed to get them out of the place so the cavalry were sent off to get around in their rear and make a clean capture of them if possible leaving the infantry to keep them engaged in front.
Our forces here are laying siege to Petersburg on the south side of the Appomattox but they haint taken the place yet. The city lies in a hollow with our batteries planted on the hills south and the rebel batteries on the hills north so that the town lies between two fires very much as it was at the Battle of Gettysburg. One of Gen. Smith’s orderlies told me yesterday that Gen. Martindale’s division of the 18th [Army Corps] had planted their batteries where they easily commanded the town and all the bridges across the river. If that be true, the town cannot hold out long—especially as a force is to be sent to attack the rebels in their rear.
“I assure you the white troops here are beginning to open their eyes as to the fighting qualities of the darkies. Wilson’s Landing and Petersburg will convince skeptics on that point.“
— Reuben Coy, 1st New York Mounted Rifles, 20 June 1864
But we had not gone more than five miles before we saw the infantry coming upon a cross road to meet us and on inquiry, we found they had charged the rebels and drove them out at the point of the bayonet, had captured a number of prisoners, and two Napoleon 12-pounders. Pretty good, wasn’t it? I assure you the white troops here are beginning to open their eyes as to the fighting qualities of the darkies. Wilson’s Landing [see Battle of Wilson’s Wharf] and Petersburg will convince skeptics on that point.
We next attacked the batteries on the railroad but here we were not so successful. We fought three hours but it coming on night, we were obliged to fall back a couple of miles where we bivouacked for the night. I was awakened the next morning by heavy cannonading and on inquiry, found that four Army Corps—2nd, 5th, 9th, and 18th—had all come up during the night and had already commenced the attack. By noon we had the first line of entrenchments and about 5 o’clock p.m. our forces made a tremendous charge on the rebels on their 2nd line but failed to carry the works. Heavens! What a noise they do make in these charges. Half a dozen thunderstorms condensed into one could hardly equal to it. Pop, pop, pop, boom—whiz—zi—zit. But though we failed that night, we found the next morning that the rebels had deserted them and fallen back to their last line on this side. Up to the time we left in the p.m., there was but little fighting and even since we arrived in camp, I learn that little or no advance has been made.
I am beginning to see more of war now than I have ever seen before. One sight I saw fairly sickened me. It was a dead rebel lying right in the road with the ambulances and artillery and everybody running over his legs and not paying the slightest attention to him. Suppose that you or I were treated in that way by the rebels. We can easily imagine how the other must feel should he be aware of it. It certainly would not be strange if we should proclaim against them as unfeeling, inhuman monsters. Yet such is war. At the best it will have its revolting scenes and there are times when it is impossible to pay that respect to the dead which humanity would dictate.
Do you hear from Samuel any nowadays? I haven’t received one solitary letter from him since he went to war. Maria’s last letter reports their progress in house cleaning and that Mother is going to Rochester to get a sofa and a new carpet. It would be quite pleasant just now, wouldn’t it, to be home for about a week, attend commencement at Lima, have a grand picnic at Hemlock Lake, give Father and Eddy a life at hoeing corn or mowing clover, and evening have a blow on those old saxhorns. We would live on bread and milk, hitch up the horse and buggy once in a while and go around and see the folks. But what am I talking about. Here I am a full grown young man of twenty-one and still as boyish as ever. But you of all others can appreciate me and my whims so I shall offer no apology.
It was rumored yesterday that the 10th and 18th Corps were ordered to Edenton, North Carolina. If that be true, the Mounted Rifles will go too. The horses are all being shod up for some long tramp anyhow and I do not think my next letter will be dated here. The weather is very warm and the roads awful dusty. Fraternally and perspiringly yours, — R. W. Coy
The following letter was written by Sgt. William Henry Sipe (1844-1864) of Co. I, 188th Pennsylvania Infantry, formerly a member of Battery C, 3rd Pennsylvania Heavy Artillery. He and David S. Myers (1839-Aft1900) were sergeants in Co. I. Both Sipe and Myers entered the service in October 1862 at Harrisburg. Myers survived the war but William Sipe was killed in the fighting at Chaffin’s Farm on 29 September 1864.
When he entered the service in October 1862, William was described as a 5′ 6″ tall, blue eyed, light-haired cooper from Cumberland county. He had learned the trade from his father, Peter Sipe (1798-1873). Though born in Cumberland county, Pennsylvania, Peter and his wife, Mary Ann Bowman—William’s mother—were residents of Augusta county in the Shenandoah Valley during the Civil War.
T R A N S C R I P T I ON
Camp near Petersburg, Virginia August 14, 1864
Dear Mother,
I again this morning embrace the pleasure of answering your kind and welcome letter that came to hand about ten minutes ago. And I was glad to learn from it that you were all well as this leaves myself in the best of good health at present.
Mother, we are still at the same place in the front [rifle] pits before Petersburg. There isn’t much firing done now through the day time but in the evening and morning still the ball opens for a while & the shells flys pretty thick for a while. There was three of our boys got hurt a Friday with a shell. The Johnnies planted some of them right in our pits. Bully for them good boys.
We are now in camp but we are going out to the front this evening. Our brigade was all out front last night working. They are putting up another large fort. Mother, the report is now in camp that our regiment is going to leave here before long [and] that we are going on gunboats being we know a good bit about the heavy artillery. The boys all seem to be willing to go & for my part, I don’t care where they go. I can fight a little anyplace. Only I think this month is a little too hot to do much fighting.
Mother, you seem to think in your letter that I am wounded but I don’t know what makes you think so. I haven’t been touched yet so far more than got my dry goods cut a little. But they may cut them if they let me slip. Davy Mires [Myers?] is at Hampton Hospital. His head is pretty sore. I got a letter from him the other day.
Tell Pap he better look out or the Johnny’s will make a soldier out of him yet. And I am sure I wouldn’t like to see him among the gray backs & me firing at him. And you say Jerry has enlisted and you think his wife will go to. Bully for her. She will make a good soldier & if not a good soldier, why a bully bunk mate anyhow. I think Jerry is mad at me too for I haven’t got a letter from them since I left the fort [Fortress Monroe] for they wrote me a letter and it didn’t suit me quite so I answered it accordingly. And it just broke up our correspondence. Pity me.
Mother, I got a letter from Uncle Jake Wilson the other day. He is well and all right. Bully for him. Mother, we have plenty of fruit around here now. We go foraging every time we come in from the front. We can find plenty of watermelon, apples, and grapes. You can bet we make them suffer.
Well, I believe I’ll bring my scribbling to a close for I must wash my shimy today yet. I am a bully washer, you can bet. We all have to do our own washing. Mother, tell Pap I received the $1.50 he sent me.
I’ll close as there is nothing new [or] peculiar in camp. When I write again, maybe I can tell you whether we will get on the gunboats or not. No more but remain your ever true son, — W. H. Sipe
My love to you all. Good night. Write soon. — W. H. Sipe
Tell Mrs. Gillen of she can read my letters as well as I can hers, she is a good reader for I know it takes patience to read some of mine. I always like to read a letter she writes for it always comes from home and I can read them right off without spelling words. Give her my love and best wishes, — W. H. Sipe
The following letter was written in two parts—the first by Lt. Daniel Webster Clark (1841-1932) and the 2nd by his father, Chaplain Orson Brewster Clark (1810-1885). Both father and son served in the 83rd Pennsylvania Infantry. In the 1860 US Census, they were enumerated in Tionesta, Venango county, Pennsylvania; Daniel working a miner and his father a Universalist Minister.
Daniel enlisted on 6 September 1861 and was commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant in Co. G, 83rd Pennsylvania. He was later promoted to 1st Lieutenant and Quartermaster of the regiment. On 20 May 1864, he was injured when he fell off his horse near the North Anna River. He mustered out on 28 June 1865. Daniel’s is the only signature by an officer among the “graffiti” signatures at the Blenheim House in Fairfax, Virginia. He signed his name there on 11 March 1862. [see Hagan History Center].
Orson was married in 1834 to Diadema Webster (1808-1894). Before turning to the ministry, he earned a living teaching select schools in Hornellsville, New York and Canisteo, New York. He was in the battles of Antietam, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Rappahanock, Kelly Fork, Preebles Station, Quaker Run, Five Forks, Wilderness Farm, Laurel Hill, Old Church, Cold Harbor. He was wounded at Mead’s Station.
Lt. Daniel Webster ClarkChaplain O. B. Clark
[Note: This letter is from the personal collection of James Campbell and was offered for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.]
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Park Station, Virginia October 10, 1864
Dear Brother,
Though it is late and I am somewhat fatigued with the days work and excitement, yet I feel inclined to spend a few moments with you this evening, And just here it will be just as well to apprise you at the outset that you will find nothing very new or strange for just now the organ of marvel with me is unusually quiet. As you have already seen, our forces on the left have made another advance. Like all preceding advances, it has cost blood. Yet we hold securely all the ground gained. We have not yet crossed the South Side Railroad. Yet we are near enough to it to hear the Reb cars though it is not probable thy make any unnecessary noise just now. Our men are all in fine spirits and full of confidence from the Commander in Chief down to all human appearance. The days of rebellion are numbered and its doom irrevocably sealed.
Deserters are all the time coming in. Both they and prisoners tell the same story of destitution, suffering and hopefulness for their cause. This of course elates the feelings of our boys and causes them to feel that the war has not been a failure. The assertion of the authors of the [Democratic Party’s] Chicago Platform to the contrary notwithstanding. I am told the most rabid secessionists around here snatch at Green Backs with as much avidity as a hungry dog does a piece of meat. Whatever may be their feelings in regard to their government, one thing is certain—they have no confidence in its promise to pay.
October 11, 1864. I have been at the front all day. Col. [DeWitt Clinton] McCoy 1 got back last night apparently in fine spirits. Our Pennsylvania regiments held their election today. The vote was like a jug handle—all on one side. They took an informal vote on President this morning. One hundred and thirty-eight voters were present. Of this number, one hundred and twenty-one were cast for Lincoln and seventeen for McClellan. This is about the way the whole thing will run all through the army. So much for the army vote.
“Our Pennsylvania regiments held their election today. The vote was like a jug handle—all on one side… So much for the army vote.”
— Chaplain O. B. Clark, 83rd Pennsylvania, 10 October 1864
The 3rd Division has advanced its lines about 3/4 of a mile today. There was heavy cannonading all last night, through the day, and still continues this evening in the vicinity of Fort Warren. For two days the Rebs have been cross as bears.
I saw Harry today. He feels badly enough about your leaving. They expected a great horse race today near the Yellow House 2 but for some reason it did not come off. General [Charles] Griffin’s gray was one of them.
The Yellow House (Yellow Tavern) is seen in the distance at right.
Our lines now extend from the fork on the right of the Yellow House (Fort Wadsworth) to within a mile and a half of the South Side [Rail] Road. They cross the Vaughn Road; our left resting on the Plank Road running from Stono Creek to the Sout Side [rail] Road. We have a much better & healthier position than we had when you left. It is said the Rebs charged our center last night three times and were repulsed each time.
There, I have written enough for once I think. My health continues good. Tell Ma and Vernie not to worry about me for I am old enough to take care of myself. Love to Bill and all. Good night. Your Father, — O. B. Clark
Gen. Charles Griffin
(Write)
1 DeWitt Clinton McCoy (1824-1902) enlisted in the first year of the Civil War and was chosen captain of Company F., of the 83d Regiment of Pennsylvania Volunteers. In May 5, 1864, at the Battle of the Wilderness, owing to the loss of Colonel Woodward, he took command of the regiment as lieutenant colonel. His army record was a most excellent one and he received many times, deserved compliments from his superiors. He led a brilliant charge of the 83d at North Anna, May 23, 1864, which broke the Confederate Attack and saved the Federal lines. At Gaines’ Mill [on June 27, 1864], he received a severe wound. For years he absolutely refused to apply for a pension, but owing to failing health and advanced years, by special act of Congress at the last session he was placed upon the roll.
2 The “Yellow House” refers to the Globe Tavern which served as the Headquarters of the 6th Army Corps.
The following letter makes a good read but unfortunately the soldier who wrote it only signed his name “John” and there are too few clues within the letter to lead me conclusively to his identity or even the regiment he was in. He does indicate that they were under the overall command of Gen. Henry W. Benham who was responsible for the engineering activities near Petersburg so I’m going to assume this soldier was in either the 15th or 50th New York Engineers. Early in the letter he speaks of constructing the hospitals at the “Point” which would have been City Point. This activity seems consistent with the engineers.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Camp near Petersburg [Monday] December 12th 1864
Dear Brother,
We have made quite a move since I wrote you last. I don’t owe you a letter but since I have the time to spare, I thought I would give you a little sketch of our march to this place.
Friday [9 December] was an awful cold day. We went down to the Point [City Point] to work on the hospitals as usual, It was rather hard work to keep warm. Friday night it commenced raining [and] in the morning [10 December] there was an inch and a half of snow on the ground. We went down to work. It grew warmer and made it too muddy to work so we came back to camp at noon. They told us we might get us up some wood for ourselves to last over Sunday [so] we started with a wheelbarrow and got two loads chopped and wheeled up into our shanty. We had to go three quarters of a mile for wood is getting about played out in this section.
When we got the wood up, it was after three. We drawed some raw potatoes at noon for supper. We was thinking what a nice meal we would have for we had not drawed any before. We got them all ready to cook but too late for at four o’clock we received marching orders, to be ready to march at 6 that night. We had to fly around, strike our tents and pack our knapsacks, but worst of all, leave our shanty. We had it fixed up warm for we had got lots of boards down to the hospitals & nails. We had just got us a table and chairs adn everything nice
At six we was all in the ranks with four days rations, knapsack with two blankets, shirts and other dry goods which a soldier needs & one piece of tent, cartridge box with 40 rounds of ammunition, belt and saber and gun—not much of a load, I thank you. No, I guess not. Bound for someplace whither we knew not. Nice time to march for the mud and snow was knee deep. The army never moves without it is muddy, by Josh.
We marched down to the railroad one quarter of a mile. There was all of our regiment awaiting for the train and some more that Gen. [Henry Washington] Benham had command of. There was said to be two thousand troops. We waited two hours before the train to come right in the mud. The band played, “The Gal we left behind me” and several other popular airs suited for the occasion. There was two trains, The first one was a wood train. Half of them got onto it. Our company got on to the second train on top. There was an inch of snow—nice and cool. We rode seven miles, got off at Meade Station. We got off and formed into line and was ordered to stack arms and unsling knapsacks and make ourselves miserable until night. I thought so too for the mud & snow was as bad as a barn yard, but sleep we had got to have. We spread down our rubber blanket and laid down. My feet was so cold, I took off my boots & warmed them up as well as I could. I never turned in quite as cold as I did that night but I went right to sleep., two of us together.
We was called up at two o’clock. It rained like shot. My blanket was wet and my feet too. We got ready in a short time and marched two hours. We halted and stacked our arms. There was a house nearby and some outbuilding (some General’s headquarters). We had got to have some wood (there was a guard around the buildings). There was no wood near so they commenced pulling down the barn and hog pen. They stripped them pretty quick. There was 50 or 60 fires started in a short time. They hadn’t got fairly to going before the order came to put them all out. If we didn’t, the shells would be a flying around us. I thought we must be amongst them for we heard the picket firing plain when daylight came. We could see our line of works plain.
We ate our breakfast, stayed there until eleven, and then we fell in and marched to where we are now. I tell you, our knapsacks was pretty heavy before we got [here]. Some of the boys threw away one of their blankets, they was so wet and heavy, but I got through with mine and stood it first rate. We got here about noon. There was winter huts built that some soldiers vacated but all mud and snow—pretty shabby for they was built in a hurry. We put our tent cloth on [one] and cleaned them out as well as we could. We had to be pretty thick for their wasn’t huts enough. There was twelve of us together—just as thick as we could stand up. I never felt thecold so much as I did that night. It seemed as though we should freeze. The wind blew hard and froze hard as a rock. It don’t look much like the Sunny South they tel about, and our old tent you could throw your hat through it anywhere.
We are within one mile of Petersburg and in the rear of Fort Petersburg. We can see the steeples at Petersburg and the buildings that they have got our prisoners in. John, you ought to see the guns that they have got mounted on this fort. They look huge, I tell you. They say they could throw a shell into Petersburg with them. I don’t doubt it for they look as though they was capable of doing. The pickets are a firing all the while at each other. I could hear them plain enough when I was at the Point and most too plain here. I would rather [ ] to the rear if they would let me,
John. I must stop for we have had orders to clean up our guns for inspection. I will tell you the rest I have done in another sheet. — George
The following letter was written by John Whitehead (1820-1864), a 44 year-old English-born tinsmith of Chester, Warren county, New York. He was married in January 1851 to Elizabeth Ann Richardson (b. 1819 in N. York State) and had at least three children ranging in age from 7 to 22 living in his household in 1860, the youngest being John Elam Whitehead (1852-1937).
John began his military service in August 1862 when he was recruited into Co. G, 22nd New York Infantry. When that regiment mustered out in June 1863, he was transferred to Co. C of New York’s 93rd Regiment to complete his three year enlistment. He was wounded in the opening action in the Wilderness but recovered to join his regiment during the siege of Petersburg. He was killed in action on 27 October 1864 near Hatcher’s Run on the Boydton Plank Road near Petersburg, just 5 days after writing this letter to his wife and son. Muster rolls inform us that he was shot through the bowels and lived about 45 minutes before he died. It is presumed he was buried on the battlefield near where he fell.
This letter is from the collection of Sharon Hall and was made available for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Camp between Ft. Hays and Ft. Warren Near Petersburg, [Virginia] October 22, 1864
Dear Wife,
I commence to write to you with but little news but to comply with your request knowing you are always glad to hear the news from the Army of the Potomac, hoping these few lines will find you all well as it leaves me at present. We are having good fall weather—warm days—rather cool nights. We are doing picket duty where we have to be wide awake on both sides. They keep up a constant firing at times, just as much as if they was in line of battle, and other times they will cease for a few hours and the batteries will open on each other from the forts when we can see the shells very plain in the evening from both sides. Johnnies coming over to us and ours going over to them.
It is not supposed that we know what way this army will move or what a day may bring forth. We may be comfortable in our camp today, [and] the next day we may be ordered to fall in line and march, not knowing where we are going until we get there. So this is the way our army goes. But it is all for the Union. It is not for me to dictate how this war should be carried on, but many times I cannot help thinking how things are managed and it is good school to see the various characters and dispositions of mankind. There are many selfish and void of principles of any good but to fraud the government, while there are others that are always in their place and are true to themselves and their country. While I may say there is quite an army between here and the City of New York—able bodied men playing off in the hospitals, while we have men at [the] front, if they had their just dues, would be at the hospital or have their discharge. I cannot begin to pen down the money frauds and impositions on this government. But we have men that care no more for our cause than Old Jeff Davis. [They care] no more than to make money and rob our government all they can. But I must stop before you get tired out of patience on this subject.
“…I am for the Union and Old Abe with strong faith that he will be our next President. I do not know what you feel or think but it is cheering to me to think, if health permit, that we may be free once more and return to our home…”
— John Whitehead, 93rd New York Vols., 5 days before he was killed
I will not write much on politics. If I do, I would not know when to stop until this sheet was filled. But I will say so far that I am for the Union and Old Abe with strong faith that he will be our next President. I do not know what you feel or think but it is cheering to me to think, if health permit, that we may be free once more and return to our home to look back at the last two years. To me it seems but a short space of time although we have seen some sad scenes in that time amongst our neighbors [and] friends. But the hopes that this war will soon come to a close and knowing I am on the last year of the term of my enlistment, I have got so I begin to count the months by and by. I am in hopes this war will come to an end before my term of enlistment is up, but we must cheer up, hoping all things will end well and soon.
You seem to have the blues about the prices you have to pay for what you have to get. I do[n’t] know what you would do if you was here and had to buy off sutlers. I will give you a short list of the prices. We have to pay for what we get and they do a very great business at these prices. Butter 75 cents, cheese 50 cents a pound, soda crackers 50 cents per pound/ There is cans of fruit called Quart Varry from one dollar to $1.50 per can that are equally as dear. Seet potatoes 15 cents a pound, Irish potatoes or the kind you raise 10 cents a pound, onions 15 cents a pound. Fancy clothing is very high. Shirts from 12 dollars to 14 per pair. But I must stop and leave a little room for John Elam as Mr. Shaw is to the regiment. You may know I am alright if he does not inform you to the contrary for if anything should happen to him, I would be likely to inform his friends. I remain yours truly, — J. Whitehead
Dear Son, it is with pleasure I commence to you once more hoping you are all in good health. I do not have much news, therefore as you are a farmer, I will try to describe to you the country I now be. We are in a level country where there is abundance of wood—large pines and oak. Water we get by digging from ten to twelve feet. There is scarcely a stone o be found—at least I have not seen any. One half of the picket lines is surrounded with woods where our men has cut down, much what we call slashing so as to prevent the enemy from approaching our breastworks. It is good land to clear up and might raise great crops in times of peace.
Give my respects to Susan & Harland & Clarry & Mr. & Mrs. Lavery & Family & all enquiring friends, Be a good boy and be obedient to Mother and you will be well rewarded for your good doings. From your affectionate father, — John Whitehead
The following letters were written by Henry Russell (1843-1891), the son of Josiah G. Russell and Lucinda Cobb of Tioga county, New York. Henry enlisted on 1 November 1, 1861 at Binghamton to serve three years in the 16th New York Independent Battery but he was discharged for disability less than a year later on 12 August 1862 at Fairfax Seminary General Hospital. After regaining his health, Henry reenlisted on 4 January 1864 as a private in Co. E, 50th New York Engineers. He mustered out with his company on 13 June 1865, at Fort Barry, Va.
Henry wrote all of the letter to his “Dear Abbie”—Abigail Saphrona Skinner (1848-1921). They were married in 1865 when Henry returned from the service.
All three of Henry’s letters were written on patriotic stationery with printed poems or songs, including “The Battle of Antietam,” “Lady Love,” and “The Dying Soldier Boy.”
Letter 1
Camp near Petersburg October 29, 1864
Dear Abbie,
I received your kind & welcome letter today & was very glad to hear from you. I am well & hope these few lines will find you the same. I had had two other letters from you that i did not answer. I have not had any time to answer them. We have had all the work we could do. We have built three forts since I wrote to you. We have worked every day for—well, I do not know how long, Sundays and all. I have got five or six letters that I have not answered; two from Charles, one from George.
We got our last fort done last Wednesday [Oct. 26] in the forenoon. Then we had to march about three miles to where we are now. We stade here all night and the next day and until two o’clock the next morning [Oct. 28]. We then went about two miles and a half and formed a line of battle. We stade there til last night [when] we came back. There was hard fighting on our right & on our left but there was no fighting where we were not did we expect any. We were put there for a show more than anything else. If the rebs had made a charge on us, I don’t think they would have made much for we were behind strong breastworks & I do not think they could had took them very well as long as the 50th Engineers were there. Well enough of this. 1
I undertook to answer the other two letters. I wrote one but did not have a chance to send it. Then one night I built a fire and that smoked so that I could not write but I think now that [I can write as] we will have a few days rest. We have not done anything today. You thought because I did not write that I was coming home. Well, I can have a furlough for thirty days and seven hundred dollars if I will enlist for five years. Now would you enlist or not? I will do just as you say.
Well, it is getting late and I must close. I hope, dear, that I can write oftener. I wish that this cruel war, or nigger war, was over for your sake. You don’t know how I want to see you. Dear Abbie, you do not know how often I think of you. Now do not think that I will not prove true. I know that you will be true to the last. This s all. Write soon from your ever true and faithful Henry
To Abbie.
1 The “hard fighting” heard by Henry was undoubtedly from Grant’s 6th offensive against Petersburg with the goal of cutting the Confederate supply lines. An offensive was initiated on the right while Grant struck the Boydton Plank Road on the left. Troops such as the 50th Engineers temporarily filled the breastworks in the middle of the Union line while the assaults were being made.
Letter 2
Camp near Petersburg November 15, 1864
Dear Abbie,
I will try and write a few lines this morning although it is pretty cold. I don’t know but my fingers will get so cold that I can’t write but I will write what I can. I am well and I sincerely hope these few lines will find you the same.
It is a long time since I have heard from you. Have you forgotten your soldier? No, I do not believe you have. I wrote a letter to you some time agoand have not had any answer from it and I made up my mind that I would not wait any longer but would write the first opportunity. It is so cold I do not know whether there is going to be drill or not. Well, I must stop and warm my fingers.
The boys are building winter quarters. I do not think we shall have much more marching this fall. It is getting too cold. I was on guard last night and it was pretty cold. I did not get a chance to sleep a bit. The night before I was on guard, my tent mate was on guard and I did not sleep much that night because he had to take one of the blankets and it was pretty cold and I did not try to sleep that night and the next night I was on guard and there was two nights that I did not sleep. But last night I made it all up. I slept ten knots an hour. Did I not do well? I slept so sound that I did not hear the drum this morning for roll call but that did not make any difference to me. The Lieutenant sent for me and another fellow that did not get up to roll call. The Lieutenant wanted to know the reason why I was not up. I told him the reason. Well, he said, that was no excuse. I asked him what made him send for us and why he did not send for some other that did not get up to roll call. He told me to go to my tent and here I am writing. The other fellow is at work for punishment. It is the first time that I ever missed roll call.
Well, I guess I will stop writing for I can’t think of anything to write so I will close. Write often. I will try and write something of more importance next time but if you are as I am, you do not care whether the letters are of any importance or not as long as they are from one that is as dear as you are to me. Well, this is all. From your ever true and faithful soldier, — Henry Russell
Letter 3
Camp near Petersburg November 25, 1864
Dear Abbie,
I will try and write a few lines to you to let you know that I am still alive & well and I hope these few lines will find you the same. Well, now, I will try and tell you what has happened since I received your last letter. I received your last letter the 18th after dark. The next morning it rained and we were ordered to pack up so we packed up and marched in the rain about three miles. It was almost cold enough to freeze and we were wet through but at it we went and put up our shelter tents and made a fire in front of it and got pretty well dried before night. I and my tent mate got some rails to sleep on. We got some pine boughs and spread them on the rails and then we spread our overcoats on them and sleep on them. It rained all day. At night I was on guard. It rained very hard all the time that I was on. The next day it cleared off but the wind blew cold. Well, I will not [tell] all that happened, only it has been cold weather and we had suffered a good deal from cold.
I had got this letter dated the 25th but it is the 26th. I started to write this yesterday morning and the Orderly Sergeant came and told me if I wanted to go to a Thanksgiving dinner to put on my overcoat and go and get in the ambulance. Well, we had a ride of about 12 miles and had a good dinner. There was three of us out of our company. We went to the hospital where I was last summer. The doctor sent for three men out of each company—those that had been sick. Well, I will tell you what we had to eat. We had oysters, potatoes, biscuits and butter, roast turkey, chicken, mince pie, pudding, apple sauce, and a number of other things. It was a good dinner. While I was eating it, I wished the rest of the boys could all have as good a dinner but they are just as well off today. It is very pleasant and warm today.
We have got a boat train now and we expect to go on a raid in a few days and this may be the last letter that you will ever have from me. This going on raids is dangerous business, We have got the canvas boats. They are light and we can go fast with them. We have been out drilling this morning.
A canvas boat used by the 50th New York Engineers,
Well, I shall have to stop writing for I do not think you can read what I have wrote. I got a letter from Stella day before yesterday. Well, there is nothing more to write. I will write as often as I can if we go on the raid but I hope we shall not have to go. I hope that it will be the last move we will make this fall. You do not know how the soldiers have to suffer with the cold. Well, this sheet is nearly full so dear Abbie, goodbye. It may be for the last time. This from your ever true and faithful soldier, — Henry Russell
Letter 4
Camp of the 50th New York Engineers in front of Petersburg, Va, in the winter of 1864-65. Notice the canvas pontoon boats parked at left (No. 14).
Camp near Petersburg December 4, 1864
Dear Abbie,
I received your kind and welcome letter last night and was very glad to hear from you. I am well. My health was never better that it is now. I never was any fleshier that I am now and I still keep gaining.
I wrote a letter to you day before yesterday to you so I have not got much news to write but I will tell you what I have been doing since then. Day before yesterday we built a yard for our beef cattle and yesterday I went out in the woods to get cut timber for the Captain’s house and for our own houses. I have got a good house but I have got to tear it down and make them all alike. A good many of the boys have got good houses built but they has got to tear them all down and build them over again.
Well, I have not told you what we have been doing today. It is Sunday today and we had an inspection of arms and I have been to meeting today and five o’clock we have got to go out on dress parade and that will use up the day.
You wanted to know what they done to me for not being out at roll call. Well, they did not do anything with me. Last night one of our sergeants did not get out at roll call. I do not know what they will do with him but I guess not anything.
You say do not enlist. Well, I will not. I have no intention of it. It would take more than 18 or 20 hundred dollars to get me to enlist so you need not worry about that. If I get out of this alright, I think that will do, don’t you? Yes, I know you do.
It is a very pleasant day. It did not rain as I expected it would when I wrote to you. When I get my house built, I shall have more time to write, I guess, if we do not have to drill all the time. Well, if we have to drill, I can write evenings for I am going to have a table and I am going to try and have things halfway decent.
Well, I wonder what time it is. It must be about half past two, I think. I sold my watch just before I began to write this letter. I can’t keep a watch here more than three days. If I get a good watch, someone will come along and ask me what I will take for it. I tell them that I do not want to sell it. Well, what will you take for it? I will tell them when they will haul out the money and hand it to me.
Well, I must close. I have got to write two letters more today. I expect a letter from home every day now. Well, dearest and best [friend], I must close. I wish I could tell you my feelings toward you. If you knew, then you never would regret the step you have taken. I know we will meet again. Well, this is all from your faithful, — Henry
The following letter was written by William H. Kirwin (1839-1917) who enlisted at Troy, New York as private, Co. E , 43rd New York Infantry on 30 December 1863; appointed musician and returned to ranks sometime after February 1865; mustered out with company, June 27, 1865, at Washington, D. C. While he was in the service, he was described as 5′ 8″ inches tall, with gray eyes and brown hair.
William was the son of William and Esther (Rasper) Kirwin. He was educated In the public schools of Troy and his first business in which he was engaged was that of groceryman. At one time he was one of the best known horsemen in this section and for the last seventeen years had been Superintendent of the Lansingburgh Waterworks.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
William’s letter was written on stationery with a “Tribute to the Late Maj. Gen. John Sedgwick” printed on it.
Petersburg December 20, 1864
Friend Nanning,
It is with pleasure that I take my pen in hand to write you these few lines hoping they will find both you and Jane in good health as these few lines leaves me in at present. Nanning, I have wrote to you some time ago and have had no reply yet.
We left the Valley and are nowat the ending place of this cruel war but they ain’t got it yet. They are looking for a big battle every day. The night before last the Johnnies took some ten or twelve of our outpost—that means men. The night was dark. There was over 75 of them so our men didn’t fire. I was over to the 2nd Regiment last Sunday and I went to see them. I could see their camp. They can talk to us but this is the hardest place that they have to take but their breastworks are much better than ours. If they make a charge, then we are all right. But if we make the charge, we will lose the half of our army and then get drove back. We lay right at the front breastworks so when they do make a break, we will take the front.
Thomas is doing well. He took five thousand men and 60 pieces of cannon and Sherman is doing his biss [business]. He has got Atlanta and we have got the last railroad that goes to Richmond. We got that lastweek. We tore up forty miles of it so as to keep it.
The weather is pretty cold but no snow. You are enjoying the snow there by this time. I wished that I was there to take my share of it.
I hold the same as always, blowing on that thing with the siren holes in it [bugle]. The Colonel sent for me so I had to come to the regiment. My uncle was killed a few days before I got there. That does leave me all alone. It is lonesome for me to have Charley and them all gone. The place that Charley was killed is only half a mile from here.
Nanning, write and let me know all that is going on there and after this battle, if I get out of it all right, I will let you know all about it which I hope I will. I will want a new set of teeth when I get home for those hard tacks won’t cave the ones in by that time. Give my compliments to all the folks.
Direct as this: William Kirwin, Company E, 43rd New York Vols., Washington D. C.
Give my love to the old lady and Jenny, saving a little for yourself. So no more at present. From your friend and well wisher, — Wm. Kirwin
Goodby. Write soon. Hoping to see you all before long.
This letter was probably written by a member of the 27th Georgia while in the trenches at Petersburg. Unfortunately I was not able to identity who wrote it and I’m not certain that I have actually gotten the names correctly. The author wrote the letter to his sister “Jocie” which was probably short for Josephine. She was married to someone named John and they had a young daughter named “Sadie” or Sarah. The author may have had a brother serving in the 27th as well who was assigned to duty in Savannah rather than Petersburg.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Petersburg, Virginia September 27th 1864
Dear Sister Jocie,
I received your most welcome letter today and was glad to hear from you once more and to hear that Bro. Shon was at home but sorry to hear of his sickness. I was in hopes he was well when I heard he had gone back to camp [ ] but am sorry [to] hear different in your letter.
I have no news of importance to write. Everything has been very quiet here for the last day or two. Of course we have the usual cannonading and picket firing along the lines which does not do much damage to either side. Some days they take a notion and shell the city very furiously. It does not generally result in much damage in the way of life. I went over to see Frank last Sunday. They were both well. I will deliver your message to them when I see them again.
I have not heard from home since the 18th. All was well and expecting the Yankees to come at any time which I am afraid they will do some night before they know it. I am afraid I will never get to see my home again—at least until the war is ended. And you know chances are slim in war. If the Yankees were all sunk in the middle of the blue sea, it would not grieve me much.
I would like very much to see your little Sadie. You say she is so interesting. I am afraid you praise her good looks too much. You must let me judge for you. As you know, a mother always looks on her children with [ ] eyes. I am in hopes I will have a chance of coming to see you before the war ends but I think it very doubtful. Nothing would give me more pleasure but furloughs are so short that by the time I got home and tell them all howdy, I’d have to pack back to the army. I am as tired of this war as mortal ever was.
You wrote to know Willie’s address. Direct your letter in care of Capt. Dougherty, Co. E, Savannah 27th Ga. Battalion, Savannah, Ga. Willy seems to be very lonely down there but I think he is much better off there than here.
Sister, I think you are mistaken when you say you have the advantage of me for I know I love you as much as any brother ever loved a sister and think all the rest do also. I almost despaired of hearing from you or Bro. John. I wrote several letters and did not receive and answer to any of them. Excuse this short letter as my candle is waxing low which reminds me that I must bid you good night. Kiss John for me. Love to all and reserve a portion for yourself. From your brother, — Jonnie B.
The following fifteen letters were written by Joseph Martin Reed (1845-1927), the son of Joseph W. Reed (1821-1898) and Mehitable C. Wyman of Charlestown, Massachusetts. Joseph enlisted as a private on 29 December 1863 to serve in the 11th Massachusetts Battery. He survived the war and mustered out on 16 June 1865 at Camp Meigs, Readville, Massachusetts.
Joseph’s obituary states that he was born in Woburn and that he enlisted before he was 18 years old. After he was discharged, he returned to Massachusetts and was employed as a conductor on the Eastern Railroad, running from Boston to Rockport. He married Ellen Eames, daughter of Ezra Eames, a well-known granite magnate of his time, and made his home in Rockport. Joseph’s father worked as a teamster in Charlestown for most of his life. Joseph’s parents home at 20 Essex Street in Cambridge still stands, built in the 1850s.
Jones’s 11th Massachusetts Battery before Petersburg, 1864. Mathew Brady.
Letter 1
Addressed to Mrs. M. C. Reed. No. 20 Essex Street, Charlestown, Massachusetts
Camp Barry March 20th, 1864
Dear Parents,
I received my box last Tuesday the 15th and since then I have received a letter from you. The eatables that you sent me are all demolished. They went very good. I gave a pie to the Captain. He thanked me very kindly for it. He said it was very nice and can back it up. They were nice—too nice to last. The other things suit me well. I have got a solid 12 lb. shot to send home as soon as I get some money. Also a piece of a spherical case shot.
We are situated on ground where the rebels have been and probably these were fired by them. Every thing that I got in the Box was very good except the tobacco—that is very poor. I wish father would get me some plug tobacco. That was what I wanted before; only it was cut up fine. If I was paid off, I would not ask you to get it, but I am not, and I don’t know when I shall. We have not got our Battery yet and they say we shall not get it until July. If we don’t, we will have to stay here a good while. We all want to go to the front as soon as possible where we shall live in tents and be more healthy. I was unwell for a few days, but nothing serious. I’m well now and a growing fat. I have got [ac]climated now and can guard myself from disease. I don’t want you to think I am not on good terms with George for we are just as fast as we ever were and are going to be. Don’t you feel alarmed about us. We are all right; both of us are well.
You wanted to know if I hadn’t rather sleep on a good soft feather bed than a soft pine board. A good feather bed would go good, that is a fact, but when you know you can’t have it, you must not think of it. I have got so I sleep just as sound on a board as I did when I was at home. I had rather be here than at home. It is much pleasanter. We have good times all the time. I would not give a cent to be in Charlestown. It is such a lonesome, dead place—only to see my folks and friends. I am not homesick at all. [I] like [it] first rate. Tell Abby I would like to write to her separately but I have so many letters to write, I can’t half write what I want to. I have got 8 letters to answer now. I must close. Love to all. From your son, –J. M. Reed
Letter 2
Battlefield ten miles from Ellson Green and fifteen from Richmond. We are beyond the Green. 1 May 31st. 1864
Amidst the flying of shells and the whizzing of bullets, I seat myself under a tree to write to you. Mother, I should really like to be at home tonight to supper—to get some hot biscuits and butter, and a cup of tea. Mother, how would you like to be a soldier without hardly anything to eat as I am? All I had yesterday was one “Hard-tack,” one spoonful of coffee, and one of sugar. Today I have neither. For a fortnight we have been drawing quarter rations but now we don’t get that. The reason is we are so far from our base of supply. Tomorrow the supply train will reach here I hope. We are agoing to draw whiskey rations—a gill a day. It makes the men hold out longer for we are so hard up. We are in good spirits. I have thought myself—although I never use the stuff—that a little whiskey would do me good, when we have been marching all day and night, no water to drink. I tell you, it makes a fellow think of home.
We have got so that we live cheap. I find no fault as long as we are so near Richmond and gaining ground every day. Last night our folks found the Rebs building breastworks. They waited till they had got it most finished and were putting their men behind them, when our boys charged on them and took it and hold it now. What an aggravation it must be for Rebs to work so hard for Feds.
We haven’t lost a man in our Battery but have had a few horses killed. One shell killed two. Tell Abby to tell Charley Blanchard that his brother was well the last time I saw him which was on the twelfth. Frank Knowles is safe and well—so be I.
Mother, you must not be discouraged if you do not get a letter for some time. I think it a blessing to get a chance to write. I would write every day if the mail could be sent but it is once in a great while that we get a mail or are allowed to send one. It makes me feel very bad to have you write [and ask] why I don’t let you know where I am and why I don’t write. I do the best I can to get you a letter. You must write me two letters a week certain and send lot of papers—daily papers preferred—and when the campaign is over and we get to camp, I will send for a box of eatables and see if I can’t have something to eat once, something in the shape of pies and cake, fried pies and doughnuts. I want you to have a lot of preserves made up this season so that I can have some when I send for it. I received that box all right. I bought me a rubber coat in Washington before we left.
Now Mother, write real often and let me know how the babies are getting along. Write often. Tell my friends to write. I shall write as often as I can. We are going to take Richmond. We expect to be at home next spring. Direct to J. N. Reed, 11th Massachusetts Battery, 2nd Division, 9th Corps. Washington D. C.
1 I have not been able to pinpoint this position but assume it was at or near Totopotomy Creek in which the 11th Massachusetts Battery played a part in the battle there on 29-31 May 1864.
Letter 3
At the siege of Petersburg July 9, 1864
Dear parents,
I received a letter from you last night dated the 3rd stating that you were glad that I was in the rear. For my part, I had rather be up front. I feel more at home. But as it is not my place to be there, I shall do my duty as well as I can at the rear where I am doing duty as driver. Why don’t you keep drumming me about my money. What will come next. I don’t know. But every letter I get worrying about something. It makes me feel discouraged. I had as just as leave throw my life away here at the front than to be so discomforted. You cannot imagine one quarter wat a soldier has to suffer during a campaign—especially one like this. The privations, the hard marching, and the danger of his life is nought to make one feel down sometimes without having anything discouraging from home. You ought to cheer up the spirit of a soldier. I have never pitied anyone so much as I have the soldier.
Mr. Briggs, if he has been in the army, he has not seen any more of it than I have. I have seen very little gambling since I have been intimate that I have gambled my money away. It [rest of letter missing]
P. S. You can send me a dollar or two if you feel like it. — J. M. Reed
Letter 4
In front of Petersburg July 22, 1864
Dear Parents,
I received two letters from you last night with money, ginger, and mustard in them. They are all right. The rhubarb has not come yet. What is the reason? Did you put it in a letter or in the papers? I should like it very much. Mr. Stone of Charlestown, the policeman there, he is after his son who is very sick. This letter I send by him. Also my watch and a piece of clay which came from under a “Reb” fort that our folks are undermining. It is a very peculiar kind of clay. I want you to be very careful of it. Embedded in the clay is a silver badge which I had made at Camp Barry. My watch I want you to keep running and in running order all of the time, but not to be carried. That money came in play very well just now. I bought a pound of butter which cost 75 cts. to eat on my soft bread, and a part of the balance I spent for lemons. Through the kindness of Mr. Stone I send all of these things home to you to take care off. All curiosities that I send home, you know how to take [care] of.
Yesterday I took one of my horses and went over to the right of the line. On one of the old fortifications I could see plainly five church steeples, a foundry chimney, and a flag staff and a number of houses. It was very smoky. But for that, I could have seen more of the city [of Petersburg]. It is as large as the city of Charlestown. I have just one postage stamp left, so you see that I cannot send you but one letter more until you send some more. When I get paid off, I will not send home for anything. I shall send my money all home for you to take care of. Have it put to interest if you can. I kept my money the last time I was paid off and most of the boys sent theirs home but were sorry for it, for they have needed it. But now I am going to send mine home and the most of the boys are going to keep theirs for themselves. I shall keep a little by me to get stuff that I cannot do without out. I am well. So are the rest of the boys. I cannot write anymore now so goodbye. From your son, — J. M. Reed
You will find a piece from our Battery in Sunday Herald of the 17th of July.
P. S. We have excellent water here to drink—the clearest I think I ever drank, cool and nice. Also all we want to eat. — J. M. R.
Letter 5
Near Petersburg July 24, 1864
Dear Parents,
I received the paper with the rhubarb in it, but it was too late. I am all well of the jaundice and partly of the diarrhea. However, it will come in play sometime.
Mr. Stone is on his way home with [his] son. I wish I was in his place, don’t you? Only I should not like to be as sick as he has been. I have sent home my watch by him. Do you know a Mrs. Prescott in Charlestown whose husband is bugler in this Battery? Mr Prescott says his wife is acquainted with you.
The weather is not so hot as it is at home, I don’t believe. It is very comfortable here now. I take one of my horses and go to ride almost every day. I went over to the 10th Mass Battery yesterday to see George Deveraux, son of Mr. John Deveraux, the sail maker, who lives on Main Street. The Warren Phalanx is near us. That company is in the 36th Mass. Regiment. George Bradford and Edward Blanchard are in the Phalanx. They are old chums of mine. I have picked up a good many old friends since I have come into the army—some that I knew in New Hampshire. One fellow that is—or was—in this Battery was wounded at the Spottsylvania fight and has gone home to his folks. They live in West Lebanon, N. H. His name is Gilman. Write and tell Aunt Cynthia that he is at home and if she wants to hear anything about the engagements we have been in, he will tell her. I presume, if he is able, he can tell them about the marches we have had until he was wounded. Since then he cannot tell anything about the Battery.
I want you to send me a pack of cards in some papers. Pack half a pack in one bundle of papers and half in another. Don’t think I want them to gamble with. I want them to pass the time away, for we have nothing to do. We stay here in the same old spot. I suppose you think that the army is not doing anything. I think we are doing well. Petersburg is quite a large city and the key to “Richmond.” It takes some work and a good deal of time to siege a place like this. Our miners are at work night and day undermining the Rebel forts and earthworks. We have got one fort most ready. They have got most 16 tons of powder under it. Think of the noise it will make, say nothing of the other works and the roar of our artillery and muskets.
Oh, I tell you, you must not feel so blue at home. Everything is going on all right. Wait until Mr. Stone gets home and he will tell you what he thinks about it. He said here that if the folks at the North knew what the army was doing, they would not complain about Grant and the army laying still.
As I came down from the front last night, I stopped to see a fellow soldier buried. He was brought to the edge of the hole on a stretcher and on removing the blanket from his face, I saw that he was shot in the head. And when he was removed from the stretcher, it was covered with blood and a part of his brains. They took a ring off of his finger and laid him in the grave. He was rolled up in a blanket and laid in the grave. Just think—that ring placed on his finger, probably by his mother or well wishers or some loved one at home, is sent back to them as it was taken from his dead body. I wish you would send me some lamp wicking to put in a slush lamp as it takes the place of candles. I cannot write anymore at present so good bye from your son. — J. M. Reed
P. S. Write as often as you can. Love to all, tell somebody to write. I am going to write uncle Frank in a day or two. Yours in haste — J. M. Reed
This is our Corps Badge. I wish you would get a lot of these envelopes and have then stamped like this one.
The Battle of the Crater took place just a week or so after Joseph wrote the last letter. He does not have an account of the battle but another member of his Battery named William Hazen Flanders described it in a letter to his friend, Millie E. Stevens of Boston. The letter was posted on The Siege of Petersburg website. It was then (2014) in the possession of Gary Skinner. The relevant portion reads:
“….You remember I have written you from time to time of the mining operations part of the ninth corps under a large rebel fort. Last week the mining operations were finished, the powder was carried in (6 tons) on Thursday and Friday, and Saturday morning was fixed upon for an attack by our corps.
At 4:00 AM Saturday morning the fort was blown up, killing a large number of rebels, mostly South Carolina soldiers and dismantling their guns, throwing the dirt in all directions. I was up to the front and I will never forget what a noise the explosion made, this was the signal for artillery to open, and immediately our batteries on the line, and others “some 200 guns” opened a terrific fire on the rebels and kept up our fire about 4 hours. In the meantime our infantry charged on the rebel works and took the 1st line, then charged on the 2nd . When the 4th division of our corps (colored) were brought into position, everything indicated success for us, the rebels were leaving their guns and works, but when they saw the colored troops they charged on them, driving them in disorder back to our works, and they rushing back so it tended to confuse our white soldiers, and no commanding officers to be found to rally them for the simple reason that they were in the rear drunk, incapable of doing anything. That our gallant boys were defeated with great loss in killed and wounded, besides losing several stands of colors, and we are now in the same position we were before the attack. It was an unfortunate affair, it being the first defeat we have experienced in the Army of the Potomac since the campaign opened. It was not the fault of our brave soldiers by no means, but can be summed up in 3 letters “rum was the cause of it.”
On Monday a flag of truce was sent out to bring off the wounded and bury the dead. I went out onto the late battlefield and truly it was a sad sight to view—one I shall never forget. Our wounded had been laying between the two lines for 48 hours in the hot sun, only 21 (one) alive for brought off the field and their wounds were alive with maggots. You could not distinguish a white man from a colored one, all turned black, &c.
I saw the rebel general Hill and other officers. Hill is a splendid looking man. It seemed odd to see our man and the Johnnies trading when only a short time before they were trying to kill each other. I conversed was several of them and they all said if the colored troops had been kept out of the fight, we would have gained the day, but when they saw them they were determined not to surrender to them, but if some of the Generals commanding certain divisions had been in their right mind as they should have been, no such disaster would have occurred to us. Our boys felt disheartened at first, but are ready to try again and I think we will not be so unlucky. I suppose the matter will be kept quiet as to the cause, but it will work out sooner or later by letters sent north from the soldiers. I trust the officers who are guilty will be punished as they deserve and receive the just merit due them for the conduct unbecoming in an officer and a gentleman.
General Burnside feels mortified at our defeat and I hear from good authority that several officers in the corps will be court martialed. I am happy to say although our batteries were under a severe fire from the rebel artillery and musketry, none of our boys were killed or wounded. Since I wrote to you though, we have had a 3 men wounded severely. Probably one of them will lose the use of his left arm. The battery is still in position on the skirmish line of having been there since July 5th….”
Letter 6
Jones House near Petersburg October 1, 1864
I have received two letters from you lately and one with a receipt for the box. The box has not got along yet but expect it as soon as the battle is over. We are having a big battle [see Battle of Vaughan Road]. I think that the Rebs have lost all this time. We are on the move again. There is a big battle going on now. Sheridan and Sherman are cooperating with this army. We have nearly surrounded Lee. Sherman is at Lynchburg and Sheridan is within two miles of Richmond. His pickets [are] within one mile and a half from the city. These are all rumors and we believe it.
Siege of Petersburg, Andrew McCallum
Our pieces are in position in Fort Howard on the front line and our caissons were ordered to the rear about three miles and as I am a driver on one of them, I have to be at the rear. We were ordered to have four days rarions in our knapsacks but we did not get but about two and today is the third day and I feel a little kind of hungry and wish I had my box. Why didn’t you send a list of the articles that you sent in the box. I do not expect the box until this battle is over.
We have whipped them so far this battle which has been going on two days. I cannot write any more now.
I want another box about Thanksgiving time with a lot of good eatables—turkey, pies, cake, preserves. What did you send this time? I am well. — J. M. Reed
Don’t feel worried about me. I am all right.
Letter 7
Peeble’s House, Va. Oct. 25, 1864
Dear Mother,
I will now take my pen in hand—or pencil rather—to answer your last kind letter. I shall only be able to write you a few words. I will be as brief as possible. What I wish to say is that there is another move on foot. It is now 10 o’clock at night and I hardly know whether to turn in or not. We are expecting orders every minute to harness up and strike tents. Hark! I hear the tramp of a horse in front of Headquarters. It is an orderly with a furlough for one of the boys. Thank the Lord it is not an order to harness up. We have got orders to be ready at a moments notice and so we expect it every moment. We are going to push our lines to the Appomattox River across the Southside Railroad.
I am nearer danger now that I was a short time ago. I am now driver on the piece—the pole team. Before this I was driver on the caisson in the rear. If a shell strikes the limber chest and explodes, up goes the chest and down goes horses and riders. I shall write at the earliest possible date, so don’t worry—that is, if nothing happens. We are having a gay time. It is rather cold here excepting in the middle of the day. I want a pair of buckskin gloves [with] gauntlets sent out to take care of my horses with. Also [ ] right away, but don’t send anymore McClellan papers out to me. I got that secesh paper—the Post. Don’t send any more. I looked at the first page and that was enough to condemn it. I applied the torch to destroy it. Burn ye traitor’s editorial.
There is going to be a heavy battle fought in a few days and I hope I shall come out safe as I expect to have a hand at it. Some of the boys have got furloughs for not over 15 days. I shall not apply for one until winter, say about February, so to be at home on my birthday when I shall be of age. I shall want some preparations made to receive me and my friends if I do come. I don’t wish to come home yet awhile—not because I don’t want to see you all because I do. But it is because I am contented where [ ]. — J. M. R.
Letter 8
Peeble’s House, Va. Oct. 28th 1864
Dear Parents,
I received your last letter on Thursday last. We were all packed up ready to move then and were waiting for the fight to commence. We lay outdoors all night long, our tents being packed on our horses. Oh, I tell you it was cold and cloudy—looked like rain. The next day the fight commenced. It lasted all day long and that night. Our loss was very small. We took a good many prisoners. We advanced our line about three miles. Our Battery was not engaged in this raid. One section (2 guns) of our Battery forms part of the garrison of Fort Sampson and the other two sections (4 guns) is the entire garrison of Fort Cummings. These forts are on the front line.
We were all ready to move out of our old camp by we didn’t have to move. What we have gained in this movement, I am not able to say as I have not learned the particulars. The heaviest fighting was way down on the right where Butler is and this move on the left was merely a feint to draw the Rebs from the right—to give Butler a chance to do something. I think that is what this move was for, for we heard heavy guns and [could] see the flashes of the guns in the night. 1
The line of works that we are on is about 30 miles long. Butler is on the right and we on the left, so you can imagine what a distance cannonading can be heard and see how far apart we are, and what a force of troops we have got to take Richmond with.
I want you to send me out a new portfolio, a lead pencil, and a pair of gloves—buckskin ones. It is very cold here nights. I wish I were at home just for Thanksgiving time, but I cannot come. I want you to send me a Thanksgiving box. Start it about the 10th of November and I shall get it by Thanksgiving; from the 10th to the 15th. I guess you didn’t send me much sugar. What you did send was soaked with candle grease. Send me a plug of navy tobacco such as you sent before by mail right away. Now don’t delay. I shall expect this and the gloves and lead pencil this week for I need them. Also send tobacco in the box—a lot of it. One plug don’t last a great while. I must have a pipe in my mouth. It is food and comfort. Kills time and drowns sorrow. Goodbye. — J. M. Reed
The National Park Service offers this crude sketch of the various forts in the Union line near Petersburg in 1864-65. Forts Sampson and Cummings, where the 11th Massachusetts Battery had its guns planted can be seen at the lower left.
1 The Union offensive described in this letter refers to Grant’s Sixth Offensive which was an effort to capture the South Side Railroad, cutting off a major supply line to the besieged cities of Petersburg and Richmond. If successful, it would have been a major Union victory prior to the Presidential election of 1864. A two pronged attack was launched, with Butler’s troops attacking the Richmond defenses north of the James River while elements of the 2nd, 5th, and 9th Corps skirted the rebel defenses southwest of Petersburg to get at the South Side Railroad. Fort Cummings, where 4 guns of the 11th Massachusetts Battery were planted, was the point in the Union defensive line from which the 5th and 9th Corps launched their marches. Joseph’s interpretation of events was incorrect; the attack on the right by Butler was intended to hold Confederate troops between Richmond and Petersburg into position while the main objective was to capture the South Ride Railroad on the left.
Letter 9
Peeble’s House, Virginia November 1, 1864
Dear Mother,
I don’t know if you can read this note. This is the best I can do.
Nov. 6th. I could not finish my letter on the first for this reason. On the morning of the first of the month, as I was going in from behind my horses to feed them, one of them kicked me in the hand, shattering the forefinger of my right hand very badly. The bone of the forefinger is fractured. They are both getting along nicely. I am just able to write now with my thumb and little finger. You see by the writing of the first part of the letter that it is written very badly. It was written with the left hand. The doctor says if I catch cold in my fingers, I may have to have them cut off. I hope I shant.
Everything looks lovely and pleasant here. We got orders the day I got hurt to go into Winter Quarters and today I have got a good log hut about 5 feet wide and 8 feet long with a bunk for two in it, a fireplace, mantle piece, bench and table. Everything’s gay. We are right in a pine grove under a hill. Oh, it is a pleasant place. My hut was not all of my own building. All that I could do was to do all that I could do with one hand, such as lugging logs on my shoulder and helping. My tent mates did the rest. It is a log cabin built of logs and plastered with mud outside and in. And to make it more pleasant, I want you to send me out a nice box just as quick as you can for Thanksgiving. You cannot start it any too quickly. If you send it as soon as you get this letter, I shant get it by thanksgiving time. I supposed you would have started one before now. Send a lot of tobacco and a lot of stuff to eat. Also 2 lb. of board nails to build with, a pair of suspenders, a lot of candles because we have to use slush lamps 1 when we don’t get candles. I will tell you what a slush lamp is as you have often asked what they were. They are this—an old can that is little, filled with pork fat and a piece of my tent for a wick which is cotton, soak it in the fat, and light it. This is a slush lamp. Send me a candle stick. Send the box right away. Also something to read these long winter evenings. So goodbye. Write soon. — J. M. Reece, 11th Massachusetts Battery
I have had a letter from Uncle Levi this week. I can get a furlough next month if I only had some important business for an excuse. Money matters or something. There are 5 of our boys home on furlough now. We shall all get them now.
A closeup map of Fort Samson (bottom center) where Joseph’s Section (2-guns) of the 11th Massachusetts Battery was positioned. To the right of it on this map can be seen the “Peeble’s House”—Headquarters of the 9th Corps.
1 “Slush lamps” were made from cooking grease and a cloth wick when candles were scarce.
Letter 10
Peebles Farm, Virginia November 12th 1864
Dear Mother,
It is Saturday and I am on guard tonight so I thought I would write to you. You needn’t feel at all alarmed about my position for as long as our pieces stay in position, I shall be in the rear with my horses. I have got a better position than I had before. My finger is getting along nicely. It is very stiff but does not hinder me from writing now.
I have received two letters and four papers this week from you. I am going to send you a sample of the stuff that we have to eat in the army at the present time. It is Hard-tack—very good for the kind. It is between good and bad. Just break it, if you can. This and salt pork and fresh meat and m___ and then a few potatoes and coffee is all that we poor fellows have to eat. Taste of the hard-tack. I am well and fat. I wish I was at home. I look so well and fat. Write often do.
—J. M. Reed
P.S. I expect a furlough soon. Goodbye, J.M.R.
Send the Box as quickly as you can.
Letter 11
Winter Quarters, Peebles Farm, Va. November 20, 1864
Dear Mother,
I received your last letter with recipe of box therein. Also a list of costs. I would like to know if the articles—pies, h___, molasses, salt, cranberry sauce, apples—I hope you bought on purpose to send me. If so, I will pay for them. If you didn’t, I don’t see why I should pay for them. But if you say I shall pay for them, I will do so. I shall get the box this week—just in time for Thanksgiving. I am very sorry you did not send me more tobacco. That will go but very little way. However, when I get paid off, I shall send home $5 to be spent for tobacco—all of it. That clay pipe you sent out to me I have smoked so much in it that it is as black as a coal.
Now there is an article that I want right away. I want it now. It is my watch. I want father to take it over to the Waltham Watch C0. on Washington St. and inquire for Charles Fuller, bookkeeper, a friend of mine, and tell him I want my watch put in good running order, perhaps cleaned, and a good key, and as pretty a steel chain as can be got. I guess Abby can get the chain. I don’t want one with a snap on the end to hook on to the watch, but a screw loop. I want it packed very nicely in cotton batten and put into a little paste board box and sent by Adams Express Co. Abby, I want you to get me a fancy steel chain with a bar on one end to put in the button hole of my vest and screw loop on the other end. Don’t get a big link chain.
Now send the watch as quick as you can, and I will pay all damages when I get paid off. Also send my suspenders and a small rubber course pocket comb and a wallet by mail at different times. Now don’t forget these things, will you. I am all out of money at the present time. But for my tent mate, or my “old woman” wife as I call him, I should go hungry. He has got some money and as it is natural to soldiers not to go hungry when they can get anything to eat, we buy potatoes of the sutler at 10 cents a pound, and a whole liver at a time of the Brigade butcher. Now tomorrow morning, if you will call into my cabin, No. 14 Jones Row, at four o’clock, you will see my old woman in front of the fireplace cooking breakfast. We shall have fried liver and potatoes and soft bread. We are hard up for butter so you will have to bring some with you. We have an excellent hut to live in this winter if we don’t happen to move. I want you to send me out a lot of kerosine oil wicks [and] I don’t mean one wick when I say a lot. Don’t do the same as you did with the tobacco when I sent for a lot [and] I only got 90 cents worth.
I am well and my finger is getting along nicely although I cannot bend it. The doctor says I have got to keep it done up all winter. If I don’t and it froze, I shall lose my finger and perhaps my right arm. We have a doctor with our Battery now. I cannot write more now. Send that watch right away now as it is getting time to have a watch about me so when I go away, I shall know when to get back [and] to be on hand when the bugle blows. We are in camp now, you know, and have to have bugle calls. I will name some of them. Viz: reveille, stable call, feed call, water call, retreat—this retreat means police call, tattoo—when the sun’s down, retiring to rest, recalls from stable, taps in the far west, supper call.
Write soon, — J. M. Reed
Send the watch and pay the express on it. Be sure and have the value put down. Value $40 as that is what it is worth. It’s worth over 50 to me.
Letter 12
Popular Grove Church Va. November 28th, 1864
Dear parents,
I have received two letters from you and have hesitated to answer them until now. I have received my box all right. Everything was in perfect order and I should like another one for Christmas. I got this box on the 22nd of the month. I want you to send that watch and don’t wait to have me send for it again as I need it very much.
I had a very good time Thanksgiving. Beans for breakfast, turkey for dinner, pie & cake, bread, butter, sauce for supper. Massachusetts soldiers did not get much of the stuff she sent out for Thanksgiving. I will tell you what her troops in this noble 11th Battery got. Viz: one lb. turkey, 2 apples, and half of a common size seed-cake to each man, and this the next day after Thanksgiving. The Old Bay State did well to send us the stuff. But the stuff was consumed mostly by officers, only giving the privates a very small share. Never mind; in two years more I hope to be out of this army. I am very well and living high all the time. I wish you could see me when I am eating my frugal meal. Ill bet you would laugh.
I am on guard tonight so I cannot write any more tonight. So I must bid you good bye hoping that you are all well. How are the babies? I will write more next time. So goodbye. — J. M. Reed
Letter 13
Breakers Ahead Before Petersburg, Virginia Near Birneys Station December 4th 1864
Dear Pazents,
I received your kind letter last Thursday night. I am very sorry to say that we have left our good quarters on the extreme left and have marched below the city of Petersburg near Bermuda Hundred. We are right in sight of the city. It is a gay looking place. Oh, I tell you, they do throw the shells into our forts fearfully. I don’t know how soon I shall have to write you [of] the death of one of our numbers for we are in a very bad place. We are in Fort McGilvery on the extreme right of the Army of the Potomac. We have built us very comfortable quarters out of logs. We are not exactly in winter quarters [but] we were ordered to make ourselves as comfortable as possible, so we call it winter quarters. We are more comfortable than we were before. We are now 20 miles from where we were the left—where I wrote you last.
The National Park Service offers this crude sketch of the various forts in the Union line near Petersburg in 1864-65. Fort McCilvery can be seen in the upper right hand portion of the map, due East of Petersburg and very near. According to Joseph, the 11th Massachusetts Battery was relocated to this position in early December, 1864.
When I wrote you before, I sent for my watch and I never send and I never send for a thing without I want it. Now I want you to send that watch as soon as you get this letter. I don’t care if there is another campaign or not, I want the watch. Now you send it! If You don’t I shant write again. What do you suppose I sent for it for if I didn’t want it. I want you to send the watch as I directed you to and then I want you to send me out a Box for Christmas. And send me out two pairs under shirts and drawers and two pairs outside woolen shirts of the handsomest figure you can find in the market. Don’t make up any plain stuff now. Remember I want you to write me what they cost and I will send you the money as soon as I get paid off. Get some stout, fancy flannel—not very thick as the weather is moderate and I shall not need them thick. Also, send me the stuff I have sent for in previous letters. Read my letters more carefully and see what I write. Read them a second time if you cannot understand them the first. Don’t let me ask you to send my watch again, but send it this time and not delay. If you don’t I shall not write until you do send it. I want a comb and wallet and suspenders. Send box Christmas & New Years. 1
Write often, — Joseph M. Reed
P. S. My box came through all right. Not a thing was spoilt. Where is that box of books that somebody was going to send me? I wish the would send them now. Sed box of tobacco in my boxes.
1 It’s not often I feel compelled to share a personal observation, but I can’t help saying that this paragraph is perhaps the most rudely worded one among the thousands of soldier’s letters I’ve ever transcribed.
Letter 14
In front of Petersburg, [Va.] December 14th 1864
Dear Mother,
I recieved about 10 days ago a splendid library from No 13 Cornhill, Boston, containing 26 very choice cloth bound books. They are all pious books. I tell you, it makes my cabin look gay. I have made a bookcase for them. There are 4 of us in the hut together. Our hut is built larger than the one we had up on the left. It is 12 x 8 feet, I think, with a splendid brick fireplace.
I will tell you what we had for supper tonight. It was fried liver, soft bread and butter, and coffee. Tomorrow evening we shall have hot biscuit and butter for tea. Please make a call in the afternoon and stop to supper. Bring you knitting work so to spend the evening by an old fashioned fireside. You would think you were in grandmother’s kitchen if you were in our hut. But don’t let me tantalize you with my story. I think I had rather sit by Grandmothers fireplace than this one. I will write more next time. I hope you have sent my watch. Love to all.
— J. M. R.
Letter 15
Near Fort Lyons Alexandria, Virginia May 26th 1865
Dear Mother,
I received your letter of the 24th inst. together with the pictures. The pictures were not taken very well. Do you think they were? How big and fleshy they were, I should not known them had I got home before she died.
How is times at home? The two dollars you said you sent me has not reached me yet. I wish you would send me 5 or 6 dollars for I need it very much and the army is not going to be paid off until mustered out of service. I don’t expect to get out of it for two or three months yet. What I want money for is to buy soft bread and butter. Butter is 50 cents a pound and bread, four loaves for a quarter. We do not live so well as we did at the front. I suppose rations are running short. What is butter worth at home? If I knew that the butter wouldn’t melt coming, I would have you send me 5 or 6 pounds. And another thing, I am out of postage stamps. I put the last one onto this letter. Please send me a few.
Bill Daily was here to see me yesterday. He has a cousin in this Battery. It was the first time I had seen him since he left Burlington. He is in Co. B, 19th Massachusetts Regt, 2nd Army Corps.
I was up to Mount Vernon, the home of Washington, last week. It is a splendid place. I saw a great may curiosities there and brought away some. I got some flowers out of Washington’s garden and some pebbles out of his tomb. I shall send the flower in this letter. Take care and preserve it.
The boys are getting money from home and are buying stuff to eat. It makes me down in the mouth to see them eating all they want and I not half what I want. It does seem strange, as near as we are to supplies, that we don’t get enough to eat. George Bradford, Ed Blanchard, and a few more of my old schoolmates will be at home soon. They are in the 36th Regiment. Please send a greenback as soon as you get this. In haste. I am well. — J. M. Reed
The following letters were written by Charles Carroll Morey (1840-1865) of Royalton, Vermont, who entered the service on 20 June 1861 as a corporal in Co. E, 2nd Vermont Infantry, was promoted to sergeant in February 1862, and was commissioned the Captain of Co. C on 11 July 1864. He was wounded on 21 August 1864 at Charles Town, West Virginia, but was with his company on 2 April 1865 when he was killed in the final battle at Petersburg on 2 April 1865.
Charles was the son of Reuben Morey, Jr. (1809-1868) and Mary Louise Blasdel (1813-1847). After Reuben’s first wife died in 1847, he married Rosetta Morse Brown (1817-1877). Reuben was a merchant in Royalton, Windsor county, Vermont.
Letter 1
2nd Vermont Infantry Letterhead of Morey’s Letter dated 14 April 1864
April 14th 1864
Dear Mother,
Your kind and welcome letter of the 7th inst., came to hand when due and was read with much interest for in it I found what trials and difficulties you encountered in getting a stopping place. I cannot understand why the old gentleman you speak of was so unwilling to have the house vacated after he had sold it so fairly but I suppose he had some motive in view, I do not think I know precisely where you have bought now. Would like to have you in your next lead me along the street from Mr. Kendricks’ to your house which is on Seminary Hill, I think.
When I got to the bottom of the first page, the team drove up with a load of wood and I was called out to divide it out to the company. The I chopped up a small log for myself, after doing which I came in, sat down, and enjoyed a little smoke. Now I take my pen again to finish this.
Have been in command of the company for three days. Day before yesterday the brigade was reviewed by Gen’l Getty, our division commander. He remarked that it reminded him of the time when he had command of regular troops. Should you not consider this a compliment? Yesterday we had a brigade drill and today we went out to have a little target practice and it is expected that Lieut. Gen. Grant will review the corps tomorrow and inspect our camps. I wish you could see the corps paraded all ready for review. It is such a grand sight then to see them break into column and march around all having the same step and keeping just company distance which duty devolves upon the right guide which is the 1st Sergeant.
We are having fine weather now but the winds are cold. Yet far the mountains are covered with snow and the streams are high. For three days we had no mail in consequence of the bridges across the Bull Run and Rappahannock rivers but there are rebuilt now and the mail comes regularly which I hope it will continue to do so long as we stay in camp.
Did you receive my receipt for my town bounty? And also my order or receipt for the $125 State commutation money and if so, have you received the money? You say you will write soon and answer all my questions. Please do not fail to do so and let me [know] all the turns you are obliged to make, and please tell father he need not hesitate to use my money in his business for I intend to make that my business if I ever return to the quiet life I have left at my country’s call. Please do not keep me in suspense long in regard to my town bounty and state commutation money.
But I think I had better close this uninteresting letter and ask you to excuse me for troubling you this much. How do you like your new home and house? Please write me a long letter telling e all about it. Please remember me kindly to Uncle James. Tell him I should like to hear from him. Remember me kindly to all the family and all enquiring friends. Please write me soon and accept a great deal of love from your son in the army. — C. C. Morey
Letter 2
2nd Vermont Infantry Letterhead of Morey’s Letter dated 4 February 1865
Near Petersburg, Va. February 4th 1865
My dear Sister Mamie,
Now that I am relieved from Brigade guard, will try and answer your part of the family letter and one received since. I was very much pleased at receiving such a letter from home as you may suppose but it did not take me a very long time to ascertain the contents of so well filled envelope full of valuable letters from y dearly beloved parents, sisters, and uncle. By the way, please tell Uncle James that I intend to answer his kind letter before many days shall have passed.
I have had a great deal of duty to perform of late and can scarcely get time to write letters; have been on duty every other day for twelve days before yesterday and the day before then to cap the whole was on detail those two days in succession. Don’t you think I have done my duty pretty well considering?
The last letter I hacve received was yours of the 25th ult. Do not know why I have received no more. I suppose, however, that it is because they have not been sent. As you say, it takes our letters a very long time to go from here to Washington. This letterwill probably leave our camp tonight and City Point tomorrow morning will be on the boat from 30 to 35 hours. The will remain in the post office at Washington D. C. at least 24 hours more before it is mailed. This will account for the delay, I think.
Doubtless ere this you have (some of you) received letters from me saying something about orders to march. if so, rest easy for the prospect of a move has all passed and we are now as quiet as ever. What caused the order is that two rebel divisions were seen marching toward our left and we wished to be in readiness to meet them in case they should make a demonstration but they have been seen to return to their old encampments so there is no prospect of an attack at present on either side.
The weather is today very spring like and we are sitting in our tent with the door open. The photograph enclosed with my last letter was one that Lieut. Prouty gave me and i intend to ask you to put it with the others I have at home and I have some more to send which I wish you would place with the others until I come home or give you some further instructions in regard to them. I have received but one letter from Williamsburg friends since my last visit there. Cannot imagine the reason why they do not write. Have written to them two or three times. Hope they are all well and enjoying life as well as usual. I suppose they are anticipating much when the spring comes and they leave the city for our quiet little home in the little town of West Lebanon in the little state of New Hampshire.
Shurb Adams, a sergeant in Co. E, has just received a furlough for twenty days and will visit you before he returns. I have also sent by him a large book which perhaps you may [be] interested. Please keep it for me until I return home. I suppose you are still enjoying life as well as ever and attending those sociables and singing schools and all such pleasant gatherings. Would like to just step into our house just after dark and then go with you to some gathering in the village. Wouldn’t some folks stare and ask, “Who is that soldier that came with Misses Morey?”
We have no news in particular to write except that it has become a settled fact that commissioners from Richmond, Va., have gone to Washington to confer with the President on the subject of that great question Peace or No Peace. Hope they may conclude that we had better have peace instead of prolonged war.
I think of nothing more to write at present; therefore, will close. Please remember me kindly to all the family and our friends in West Lebanon and write as often as convenient. I have not solved the enigmas you sent me yet. Accept much love from your brother in the Army of the Potomac. Please direct all letters to Co. C, 2nd Regiment Vermont Vols.
— Charles C. Morey, 1st Lieutenant
To Muss Mary E. Morey, west Lebanon, New Hampshire
Spared & Shared 23 