The Civil War Letters of John Hager, Co. B, 110th New York Infantry
The following 171 letters were made available for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by Sue Hager, a descendant of John Hager (1829-1897) of Oswego who served in Co. B, 110th New York Infantry during the American Civil War. According to company rolls where he was borne as “Hagar”, John mustered in as a private on 13 August 1862 and mustered out with the company on 28 August 1865 at Albany, New York (3 years, 23 days). The enrolling officer described John as 5′ 7″ tall, with blue eyes and sandy hair.
1862 Letters (1 through 29)
1863 Letters (30 through 115)
1864 Letters (116 through 148)
1865 Letters (149 through 171)
Letter 116
New Orleans, Louisiana
January 3, 1864
Tonight I take my pen in hand to let you know how I am a gettin’ along. I am well and hope this will find you all well at home or in Michigan—if you are there. Lyman Baker 1 has got one letter from his wife since we have been here. He tents with me. He is John Redman’s brother-in-law in Boston. He and I both wrote what to direct in care of, Capt. Phillips, New Orleans. I don’t know what the matter is. His letter weren’t but a few days comin’ here. Snyder hain’t come back yet, I thought I would write a little tonight. When he comes I can finish it. I don’t know if I will send it by him but I think not. You will get it sooner if I put it in the [post] office. If you have got to Michigan.
I don’t know if you will get all my letters. I hope you will. I should like one from you tonight. I shall look for one this week. I don’t know if it will come or not. I shall write to you as long as I am in the army and if you live, I might say and I live too, but that I expect to live to come home and raise 10 or 15 boys for the army yet. I don’t know but what I shall have to send them down here to help put down this rebellion. But I hope they wont have to come to New Orleans for it is a pretty hard place—the hardest place that I was ever was in in my life.
It is morning now. It rained all night pretty hard here. It is about 3 now and it has stopped raining. I wrote to you that I thought you had better sell your cow and calf if you go to Mich. That is what I think is best for you to do for your folks don’t more than half care for their own.
This is a pretty dirty half sheet but I will send it. I don’t hardly know what to write to you for I don’t know hardly where you are. Sometimes I almost think you are dead or running away or something is the matter or I would hear from you. But maybe it ain’t time yet.
— John Hagar
To Phebe Hagar. This is all for this time.
It is the 10th [of January] now and I ain’t sent this so I write a little more. I got one letter from you two days ago but it has been so cold that I could not write. It is a little warmer now. It rains today. It has froze ice three inches deep here this winter. They say it has been the coldest winter here in 20 years. I got 10 cents in the last letter and 3 stamps. I see by your letter you hain’t gone to Michigan yet. You are at home now but have been to work out. You don’t say whether you was to work for Mr. Deen or Sam Wood. It don’t make much difference which for they are both pretty tough. Deenn is she biggest whore master in Oswego County. I don’t know as you knew it. I know. If you did, you wouldn’t go there to work. Anyway I don’t want you to go. I hope you will muster some spunk enough to go and see Jane this winter. Take both the children with you. Dont leave anyone alone. I want them both kept togather. If you want to go to Michigan, take the children and go to Michigan. Take the children and start. It won’t be nothing when you get started to go. Sell your cow.
Phebe, I dont know as you will thank me for what I wrote. I think I will get my pay in a few days, then I will send you a little at a time. I shan’t have too much to send. We have to settle up for our clothes and I have drawn a good many since I have been here. I have got good clothes now and enough to last me one year—all but shirts and stockings. My shoes last me first rate. They ain’t more than half worn out. I don’t know hardly how you got along this winter but if you go to Michigan…
I dont know how long it will be before I get my pay but I have heard talk that we will get it in a few days. I think I shan’t send any home till I get an answer from this. I think you will.
I don’t know how long it will be before I shall get my pay but I have signed the pay roll. The talk is we shall get it in a few days now but I think I shan’t send any home nor to you, till I get an answer to this. I think you will go to Michigan yet but I don’t know. I han’t got all of your letters yet. I will write again when it gets warmer weather. It is too cold now to write and I won’t write to anyone else. But send your letters: New Orleans in care of Captain Phillips, Box 323
You might put on the regiment. I don’t care if you do. 110th New York, for I may go away from here. Then they will come all right. John Hager to Phebe Hager
Today is Sunday so I write a little on this piece of paper. I got it when I was at court so now I send it to you. Today is warm and nice here, but I s’pose it is cold there yet. The papers say it has been a cold winter there as well as here. I tell them the reason it is so cold here is there is so many northern soldiers here. I tell we can stand the cold weather here—hen it don’t freeze more than 3 inches, that ain’t nothing. But they look so they was half frozen to death when they come into court. There is lots of citizens comes to court as well as soldiers. Some are took up for stealing and some for buying government clothing off the soldiers and some women are taken up for selling whisky to soldiers. Them the old judge sends to the workhouse for 60 days or more.
Today is the 17th [of January]. When I get my pay, I shall send you a paper. They say we will get it the 20th of this month but nothing certain. I hain’t got nothin’ much to write this time—only I am getting tough and fat once more. But I have had the shits for one month now but not very bad. Hain’t had to run more than 3 or 4 times in 24 hours. A good many of our boys has had the fever here this winter but at the regiment the boys are all tough. Old Doctor was down here a few days ago. He says he hain’t got but 3 or 4 on the sick list there now. So you see it is pretty healthy here this winter. Old Col. Sage—that old Bull Dog—he has resigned and hired a plantation here. It is about 7 miles above here. He has gone to work on it. I see him down here a’most every day.
John Hager to Phebe Hager
1 Lyman J. Baker-Age, 27 years. Enlisted, August 6, 1862, at Boylston, to serve three years; mustered in as corporal, Co. C, August 25, 1862; mustered out with company, August 28, 1865, at Albany, N. Y.
Letter 117
New Orleans, Louisiana
January 24, 1864
I have been a waiting for Mr. Snyder. He has been a waitin’ for a boat 10 days. It starts Monday the 25th. He gets free passage to New York. I send you my old pants.
I han’t heard nothing from George since I have been here. Today is a nice day. It looks like summer. Mr. Snyder stays here in the tent with Mr. Baker and me. He lives on the same that we do. My dear, he can tell you where a soldier needs any money or not. I know I have used a good deal but not any more than I should if I should have to [ ] it all over. I thought we should get our pay so I could send some home by Mr. Snyder, but we don’t get it yet.
I would like to send the children a little something from New Orleans so I will send my old pants. Pants ain’t but 2.50 now. I put these pants on the 12th of June and so you can see what I have wore when we made the charge on Port Hudson. They are pretty good yet. I turned them up so they are pretty short, but they will make Charley a good pair. Take and wash them.
Phebe, I have just got a little short letter from you written the 5th of January 1863 but it is 1864. I see you hain’t gone to Michigan yet but I am willing you should go. It won’t cost more than 30 dollars to go there and the cow will fetch that any time.
Mr. Snyder was here when this little letter came. He thought it was a pretty small one to write to a soldier but I was glad to get that for it has been some time since l had one. I send these papers for you to read to Dave Flemming’s and I want you to give one to Albert Caulking. I want him and his wife and Charley and old Pries, I want them to all read one of these little tracts and it is only a short speech that was made here in this city. The man that spoke was a neighbor to old [ ]. They thought a good deal of him and maybe they will like this. Maybe I shall have something more to send by the time Snyder gets ready to start. I don’t know how soon the boat does start. He has gone to see now.
Chester has forgot me all together I think, and all the rest but you. I don’t hear nothing from them nor the children neither. I s’pose they han’t forgot me yet. I think of them everyday and of you too, Phebe. I don’t know what more to write this time. I hope you will answer all of my other letters and this too. If you can read it. So, I must say goodbye once more. — John Hager
To Phebe Hager, my dear.
Letter 118
New Orleans, Louisiana
January 27, 1864
Mrs. John Hagar–my dear wife,
Once more I write a few lines to let you know how I am a gettin’ along. I feel pretty well myself and hope this will find you well.
Mr. Snyder has gone home. I sent a letter by him. I sent my old pants for you to make Charley a pair. I sent you my little old knife. He will send them to you by Uncle John Spencer. If I had my pay I would of sent some home by him. But we han’t got it yet.
Ira Cross 1 got a letter from Ruff Enis. Ruff says to tell John to be a good boy. That is all they wrote to me but that was a plenty for them. I shan’t write to them again if I stay here 100 years more. Damn my buttons if I do. Damn ’em. I shall live just as long if they don’t write. I think I have one friend there in the North that will write and who cares a damn for the rest. If they don’t want to write, I don’t. — John Hager
To Phebe Hager, my wife.
1 Ira D. Cross-Age 21 years. Enlisted, August 6, 1862, at Mexico, to serve three years; mustered in as private Co. E, August 11, 1862; mustered in as fifer, Co.A, August 25, 1862; transferred to Co. B, November 9, 1864, mustered out with company, August 28, 1865, at Albany, N.Y.
Letter 119
January 29, 1864
Today is the 29th of January and I just got this letter and I have just come from court. They keep us there all day today until 7 at night, and I am all alone here in the tent. The boys have a’most all gone off to guard prisoners and to guard confederate houses so there ain’t more than 7 or 8 of us here in camp. You see 4 of us are detailed to go to the court so I stay here all the time.
Tell E. T. Whitehead 1 and all the rest of my friends that I do thank them very much for their compliments that they sent to me but they don’t send any at all. But it is all the same. I have been gone a’most 18 months now and never have had but 2 letters from Chester and 2 from Nancy and 2 from E.T. and Rhoda and about two or 3 from Mary. That is about 8 or 9 from all of my folks. I guess I have had about 150 from you or more. You have done first rate. Well, I must stop and go to bed for I do feel pretty darned tired and sticky too.
January 31, 1864
It is the last day of the month and I must finish this letter. I don’t know as you can read this for it rained when I wrote it, but it is a nice day here today. It looks like July here today. I don’t think we shall get any pay now—not till March. We will muster for pay the last day of February again but I don’t know what the reason is that they don’t pay.
The old troops are enlisting over. They are a goin’ home on a furlough. They get a big bounty—375 state bounty, United states 400. This is old troops that has been in over 2 years. After we have been in 6 months more, then we can reenlist for 3 more years but I think now when my time is up that I shall come home and stay a spell with the old woman or to Michigan. I shall come where you are no matter where it is.
I think this war will be settled this summer. Old Grant is a getting ready to give them hell right and left or under the shirt tail. When he gets started, he sweeps all before him. He is the best General man to be under that there is in the whole war except John C. Fremont. He is Major General yet. Them two men are the best men to be under. They don’t believe in puttin’ a guard on every old reb’s garden or on his hen roost. Them is the men that says go right in my boys when you have a good chance. That is what their men tell me.
I s’pose Jim feels pretty bad but we all must die when our time comes. I send my best respects to you and all my friends…
This to Phebe Hager. [From] John Hager, here in Dixieland.
1 Ezra Trim Whitehead (1816-1887) of Mexico, Oswego county, New York, was John’s brother-in-law. He was married to Rhoda Submit Hager (1822-1886) on 8 January 1854. I believe they were members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
Letter 120
New Orleans
February 14, 1864
Mrs. John Hager,
I received a letter from you January the 16th and I s’pose you was all well then, but you did not say whether you was sick or well. But you said Charley had just got back from Chester’s and you was a going to let him go to Ezra to stay. You don’t say where you are a goin’ to stay or what you are a goin’ to do. Be you a goin’ to Michigan or what are you a goin’ to do? I had rather you would keep the children both together if you can do so. If not, do as you think best.
I know you must have a pretty hard time to get along alone and I don’t send home any money but it has been six months now since I have had any pay and that is a good while to wait for money when anyone has everything to buy. But my dear, remember it is war times and John Hager is off to war. I s’pos you have found that out by this time but my dear, my time is half out now. Then, if I live, I shall come where you are when it is out, if not before. It looks to me now so this war was pretty well played out.
They are a holdin’ meetings here every night. They are a goin’ to have a governor here. He is to be elected the 22nd of this month and the 4th of March he takes the seat. The Union men in this city are a gettin’ Wide Awake now. They had a large mass meeting in Jackson Square last night and another at Clay’s monument [in the median of Canal Street at the corner of St. Charles]. I tell you they say this state must come back into the Union right along and I think it will. It looks like it now to me.
Baker has got back here but has gone off again. He has gone to Tortugas with some prisoners. I don’t know as you know what this place is but it is about 200 miles from Ship Island. Tortugas is an island where our folks is a buildin’ a large fort. I heard two men sentenced for Tortugas. I don’t know as I spell this place right, but they was sent for 20 years each. They both had wives here. They both deserted. One hain’t been a soldier but 4 days. Their wives was here at court. They both had little babes. They was both young men about my age. One had two more children at home. I tell you, these women took on like damn fools, but it was pretty tough. But it is good enough for them men. They mustn’t desert the rag. I say the old jury served them just right. I ain’t no worse for them to soldier than it is for me.
Well old woman, I might write all the time and then not write half that I see and hear. I am in a place where I can see a good deal and I guess I won’t write it all this time for paper is getting scarce here with me. But we found an old reb’s account book and so I write on it. It ain’t bad paper, but it is some old reb’s paper, but it don’t cost me nothin’.
Well old woman, it is a nice day here today but it is rather lonesome here today. There ain’t but 5 of our boys in camp and they are all gone off now on a pass and I have got a pass. I am a goin’ down to Parish Prison to see some of the boys.
Well, I got a letter from Gardner and Mary today. They are all well. Their letter was the same date that yours was—the 16th. I should write to them today but I hain’t but one stamp so I will put in a line or two to send to them in this. I lent two stamps and can’t get them now but I thought I should have enough to last till we got our pay then or I should not of let them go.
Well old woman, I hain’t sent this so I write a little more today. Today is the 16th and all is well. We had a big mass meeting here last night. They come out with their torch lights. I tell you, it was a big thing. I will send you a paper. There is another meeting tonight. They are a gettin’ pretty wide awake here. They say this state must come back right straight along. You nor nobody else never hear no abolitionists talk or preach more in favor of freedom than they do here. Some of these old cusses here have owned 500 and some 1500 slaves, and now they go dead head against it. But damn ’em. I don’t know how long they will talk as they do now. I will send you a paper and that will tell you something that is a goin’ on. I s’pose you have a paper to read. I don’t know as you take one this year.
Phebe, I have got plenty of stamps now and so I will write to Gardner in a few days. If you see him, tell him that I am right and sound. I am rather tired tonight. I had to take two prisoners down to the prison after court was over. It was 2 miles from here. They had their sentence to Tortugas for 20 years for robbery. They was soldiers. They belonged to the 6th Missouri. They are tough cusses.
This is a pretty good place to learn somethin’ here. I went to meetin’ Sunday night. It was a nigger meetin’. There weren’t but one white man but me. That was Baker. He and I go together. Well, the house was full. It was a large house. The text was in the 15th Chapter and 18th Verse of Saint Luke. Well, old darky did everlastingly give it of to all.
I send my old hello to Chester and all the rest of the friends who has put you with Orson and John. You don’t say where she went or not. Nor you don’t say whether you are a going to Michigan or not. But I don’t think you have got hardly pluck enough to go off from your father. But do as you think best. It is a nice warm day here today. Well, I guess that I have scribble scrabble more now than you can read, so I will stop this. From John Hager, your own soldier.
My dear, direct to New Orleans, Box 323, in care of C. A. Phillips. Then it will come all right. I don’t know as I have got all the letters that you have sent. You spoke of that big note that Peter and I give to Lester. I remember it. I will call and pay it in about one year and 6 months.
Phebe, it is pretty healthy here this winter. There is a few cases of the small pox here in the city but not many. Well, I s’pose I must say this is but old woman, you don’t write hardly often enough I don’t think. If I don’t, please tell me so, and I will write more. This is all for today. Write and tell Chester to write and all the rest. Tell E. T. and Rhoda that I am all sound but I don’t know but I shall be a negro man if I stay here much longer. This is all, — John Hager
Phebe, well old woman, while I was just a finishing this, General Banks’ little girl came along and stuck her head in the tent and give be a piece of cake. She is about 8 years old.
Letter 121
New Orleans [Louisiana]
February 28, 1864
Mrs John Hagar—my dear,
Today I write a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope these few lines will find you better than when you wrote me. I am well myself and wish you was to. The 110th [New York] has gone to Tortugas Island. I think we shall go now in a day or two. When you write, direct your letters to Tortugas, 110th [New York], Co. B. I don’t know whether you had better send them to Tortugas or New Orleans for Tortugas is almost halfway to N. Y. from here. I would like a letter from you before we start from here.
I don’t hardly know what to write to you but Phebe, I don’t think I shall get any pay here. I was in hopes that I would so I could send you 50 or 60 dollars and more if Chester sends me a watch. It has been a good while since I have had any pay and I guess you think it has been a good while too. I would send you a paper or two but I hai’nt got any stamps. But I will put this little piece in so you know how to spell the place that we are going to. But it ain’t for anything we have done, but it is because we hain’t done something. There has to be a regiment there [to garrison the fort and guard prisoners] and we are the lucky ones. It is a large fort of 200 guns—all mounted—and the fort covers the whole island. It is 60 miles from the mainland so you see that we have plenty of water. It is salt water but they have a way of purifying it. They call it condensed water. They catch all the rain water they can. 1
Phebe, when I get there, then I shall write all about it to you, if you are alive and I am. Then I write you another letter. Then I hope that I shall have some money. Then I will buy me some paper and a pen. Somebody stole mine so I hain’t got any worth a damn. But maybe you can read that I am well and that is all you care for as long as I hain’t got any money for you. Maybe I shall get another letter from you Phebe before we start. I hope so for I never wanted to hear from you as much as I do now. God only knows when I will hear from you if I don’t get a letter before I go to Tortugas. I do hate to go there. I had rather go to Texas and fight the Rebs than to go there. But maybe I will like it there.
So good by for this time. John Hager to Phebe Hager
1 “In order to support such a large population in an area lacking fresh water, an innovative system of cisterns was built into the walls of the fort. Sand-filled columns were placed at regular intervals in the inner walls, spanning their height from the roof to the foundation. The columns were intended to filter rainwater from the rooftop for long-term storage in a series of underground chambers. However, the rainwater dissolved salts in the sand, or the cisterns had not been made tight, making the water unfit for drinking, but usable for washing and cooking. Only the rainwater runoff stored under the parade ground was fresh for drinking. Two steam condensers distilled 7,000 US gallons (26,000 L) of sea water per day during the Civil War. The fort enjoyed “… much better water than we have had heretofore,” which was stored in the parade ground cisterns.” [Source: Wikipedia]
Letter 122
New Orleans [Louisiana]
February 29, 1864
My dear,
I got a letter that you wrote February sometime but it was mailed the 15th. Well my dear, it found me well and I am glad that you are gettin’ better. I hope that soon you will get well for I know it is bad to be sick without any money or friends.
My dear, I have just made up my mind what I shall do when I get my pay. I shall send home to you $50 and that is all I will send to you while I am in the army. Phebe, I don’t think you do right. You have sent Charley off and you are a runnin’ here and there. I don’t like it—not one damn bit—[and] all the time tellin’ [folks] how poor you are. God damn it, if you can’t get along no other way, then sell your land. I have been here 4 months and I hain’t had but $2 and that is more than half of what my washing cost me, [to] say nothing of my tobacco, but what of that. I can’t get any money till they get ready to pay it. Phebe, I have been a savin’ of my money as I could be and now I have sent to Chester to have him get me a watch [because] you are too poor to send me one. But I can do without one. I shant buy any here as they are to high or I would for I would like one for they come in handy. I wish you could sell your land for what it cost. Then you could go see [your sister] Jane [in Michigan]. I don’t know how long it will be before I get my pay but I hope not long for I do want to send you some for you sent me some when I was sick and when I was at Port Hudson. Then I needed it pretty bad and you have always been good to me or I wouldn’t send you a cent.
I think I wrote to you last summer that I would never write to you for any more money or anything else and I shan’t either. I will be as good as my word on that. I am very sorry that I hain’t got money to send to you but I know that you are where you can borrow a little if you get hard up. When I get my pay I shall write one more letter and if I don’t alter my mind a good deal. I shan’t write more than one letter a year for it cost so much to write and you and I are too poor to write.
Tell Chester to send no watch for I am too poor to have one. But that is all. I hain’t got anything for that cheese yet but I will when I see the Lieutenant. Now you be sure to tell Chester not to send me a watch for I shan’t look for one now. I won’t go to the [express] office after it now if I know there isn’t one there for me. I want you to understand I can get along without any of your folks help or any of mine. They all act like a lot of damn hogs. But I don’t want anything of nobody. I can get along some way till my three years is up. Then I shall want to see you and the children.
But remember, tell Chester not to send a watch for you are too poor to send me one. But I don’t think you will be any the poorer or richer if Chester had of sent me a watch. But tell him not to send it nor anything else, nor you neither—not till I tell you to. But be sure to tell Chester not to send the watch.
It is warm weather here now. The boys have got back from Tortugas. They say they think I will like it there after I come to get there. I hope so for I hain’t been a place I liked since I left you. But Phebe, be sure and tell Chester not to send me a watch. Guess you won’t forget to tell Chester not to send me a watch. So I will close by saying do the best you can for I am down in Dixie. This is the last day of February, 1864 at New Orleans.
— John Hager
I got this letter all wrote so I put this in it.
Direct to New Orleans to the 110 [New York], Co. B when you write. I don’t know how long it will be before I go to Tortugas.
Emma, my little lady. I must write a little to you. Emma, I hope you will be a good girl so your ma won’t send you off for somebody to be (coft?) and not around. But Emma, don’t stay any where—only with your ma.
Letter 123
New Orleans [Louisiana]
March 8, 1864
Mrs. John Hager,
Tonight I thought that I would write a few lines to you for the other letter don’t hardly suit me so I write this. I told you that I was a goin’ to Tortugas but I think now that I shall stay here in New Orleans this summer. The Old Judge says he can’t spare me so I think that I shall stay with him. Phebe, I hope you have got well for I s’pose you have it hard enough. At the best, they keep a talking that they are a going to pay us when the money comes in. There was $1,100,000 of money come here to this city and they say they have paid it all out but now I don’t look for it—not till we muster again. Our muster day will come the last day of April. That is almost 2 months yet. That looks a good while to you I know. It does to me [too]. I did think that I won’t write again until I got some money to send to you but I thought that maybe you would write and send them away off there to the devil two peeks beyond anyplace so I thought that I would tell you that I hain’t gone there yet—not myself. I know that I should not like it there and I don’t like it any the best here. I don’t feel like writing much in this to you for fear you are sick yet.
How does Charley like it up to Ezra’s? Phebe if he gets sick, I want you to take care of him if you are able to do it. This is all for this time so good night my dear. — John Hager
Phebe Hager, my dear wife.
Phebe what does Sam say about you comin’ and stayin’ there with them in Michigan]? What does John say about the place up there? I was in hopes you would go up there when I get my money—enough to take you and the children there and so you can have money left. But if Charley don’t like it up there, don’t write to me—not till you get him home. I want my family all together when they can be. It is morning now and I will write one word more. Phebe, if you nor I hain’t got friends there that will let you have what money you want till I can get mine then, I don’t want to never come back there to live. I had rather go up West than not.
Letter 124
New Orleans [Louisiana]
March 20, 1864
I got your letter that you wrote March 4th. You wrote it at Charles’. I see that you are a gettin’ better. I am glad of that. I am glad that you had something to sell to help yourself with. I hain’t got my pay yet but I think I shall get $50 of it now in a day or two. My washing has cost $3 since I came here and my tobacco about the same. But I have got along first rate for money. Some days I get 15 and 20 cents for doin’ errands. Then I can buy me an apple once in a while. Apples are pretty high here—5 cents apiece. I hain’t had 5¢ now in two weeks. But the captain said we would get our pay tomorrow now for the last ten days. But tomorrow hain’t come yet. But I think it will come now in a day or two or three. Then I shall have some money for you.
But I guess I shall wait till you get to Michigan. If you sell your cow, that will be enough to take you up there. Then you can tell me where to send the money. I ain’t afraid to send it to you in a letter. That $5 that you sent me come all right but the 50 cents—that I hain’t got yet. I shall, maybe.
Well Phebe, I am well at present—only I have got a pretty bad cold and I have had the fever and the ague 4 days. I put that quinine that you sent me in a pint of whiskey and that knocked it. Anyways, so you see that I am well. There was one day that I was pretty darn sick but that hain’t nothin in war times. You don’t say whether you got them pants that I sent by Snyder or the letter. Nor you don’t say nothin’ about Charley. But Emma is a good girl. I am glad of that. I would like to see her today. You can see that I am rather hard up to have to write on this old account book, but it does first rate if you can read it.
It is nice warm weather here now and the army has gone up the Teche country again this spring. That is up where we was last summer. Banks has took 4,000 cavalry with him this time. I s’pose we shall hear of his gettin’ the Rebs all out this time and Old Farragut is at Mobile a givin’ them fits there. We see his signal lights clear from Mobile last night and the men could read them, but what it was—that I don’t know. I s’pose that the army is all a gonna move now. Soon you will hear of some big fightin’ this summer all over. I hope this summer will tell the story. I s’pose that Banks is a goin’ on to Texas this time. I hope he wont be afraid of destroying a little of their property as he was last spring. When we went up there is when he come along a nice house, he put a guard on till the whole army got past. I don’t suppose there is any use of me writing about the war for you read the papers. I was a gonna send you a paper but I haint had no stamps.
Phebe, will you please tell me whether you got those pants I sent by Snyder and tell me whether you are a goin’ to Michigan or not and whether you are a goin’ to take both children. I hope you will for I don’t want them scattered all over the world.
Phebe, I hain’t nothin much to write this time. I got a letter from Chester today. He says a watch is worth 20 to 22 dollars there. I can get them here for that. I don’t know but what I will buy me one when I get my pay. It is darn lonesome here without one. There is a good many clocks in the city but you can’t tell much by them. My other watch done me lots of good if I did sell it in Baton Rouge. I can live on government food but it was better to have a little butter once in a while. I don’t spend my money to the whore houses but if I have money and I want something good to eat, then I buy it. If I had 10¢, I don’t know but I would buy me a plate of potatoes and fish today. That is what I bought with the 10¢ you sent me. This is all, — John Hager
Letter 125
New Orleans [Louisiana]
March 24, 1864
My dear,
I take this opportunity to write you a few lines tonight to tell you that I have got my pay and I shall send home you some of it but I don’t know but you have gone to Michigan. But I shall send you this for you hain’t gone and hain’t money enough to start with. I hain’t much time to write today but will write again before I start to Tortugas. The order has come to take all the 110th [New York] men on the next boat. I don’t know how soon that will be but I will write before I start. — John Hager
To Phebe Hager. There is five dollars in this.
Letter 126
Fort Jefferson, or Tortugas, Florida
April 3, 1864
This is the place where the 110th [New York] is and I am here too. Phebe, I like it here better than I thought I should. We have good quarters here. This is a large fort here. You get in it by going up one pair of stairs. Then you can get clear around the fort under shelter. It is a nice place but it ain’t done yet. But Uncle Sam has got lots of help, you know.
We started from New Orleans the 26th and got here the 30th. We had a rough time. I was pretty sick but I feel all the better for it now. But I feel rather dizzy headed yet. I have been out on Sunday inspection this morning. We come out in style here as well as we did at New Orleans. It is all style and nothing else here. We can’t see anybody but the 110th and the prisoners. Only once in a while a boat comes in. But we have a good table to sit down to and pretty good grub here so far. Good cups and saucers to drink our coffee.
Well, old woman, I have been around on top of the fort. I do hate to write today for I can’t think of anything to write. But Phebe, I am well and hope this will find you all well. I had a letter from E. T. Whitehead and Charley wrote a little in it. Phebe, I sent 5 dollars to you in a letter to Chester. I s’pose you have got it before now, if you ever do, and 5 in another to you. One went to a different boat.
Phebe, I don’t know but you have gone to Michigan but if you have, the letters can go to you. Phebe, I want you should write to me what them socks was worth and what kind they were if you please. I will put in 50 cents in this for you. Direct to Fort Jefferson, Tortugas, Fla. 110th [New York] Co. B.
— John Hager
To Phebe Hager, my dear wife. The next time I will write more.
Letter 127
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas
April 18, 1864
Mrs John Hager, my dear,
I got three letters from you today. One had two dollars in it. Some of them was wrote straight up and down, but it is all right on your side with me. I am satisfied. I got a letter to E. T. Whitehead today. I didn’t feel like writin’. I don’t know as they can read it, but damn the odds. It is from Tortugas and from a soldier so it is all right I s’pose.
Phebe, you spoke about going to Michigan, I don’t ever want to go on that farm to live—not if I can have my health in the West or in the South. That is a pretty hard place. But, you had ought to have $400 for it. Albert offered $300 for it, 7 1/2 comes to just 300. If he won’t give any more, then you may let him have it. I don’t think it is best to run in debt now for it is war times, you know. And you know that money is plenty just now. And maybe when you come to see the land, maybe you won’t like it. But if you do, then do what you think is best. I will be satisfied with it. I am sorry that you sent me this last money but I can send it back when I hear that you have got the other that I have sent you.
There is some of the boys lost some money by sending it home in a letter. I have got 10 or 15 dollars that I shall send you when you make up your mind where you are going to stay. I sent $5 to you when I was at New Orleans and $5 to Chester for you. I should have put more but there was so many to send money, I was almost afraid to send it. I have got 20 dollars now and they say we will get paid here in July. Then I think I will send you a check on the bank of about $50 but I shall send you some before then. I want you to make up your mind what you are goin’ to do. Then I shall know where to send it. I suppose you know a law was passed that all soldiers that has been in two years, they get 75 dollars and 160 acres of land. But the land won’t amount to much I don’t think. But it will be worth somethin’ sometime.
Well, old woman, I guess I have wrote all you want to hear and maybe more. I hope I hain’t wrote anything that will hurt your tender feelings. Forgive me Phebe if I have wrote anything wrong. I hope you will forgive me but not forget me. Remember I am your friend and always shall be till death. Remember this. From — John Hager, your friend.
Phebe, I hain’t think of much to write tonight for there is 8 to 10 boys in here all talkin’ at once so I won’t write no more tonight. I put one letter in the office today. The boat haint gone out yet so I think I will send this. I guess you think I haint gonna write but one letter a year but I guess I shall write all you want to hear. So I will close by saying do the best you can and it will suit me. I only thought it best to keep the children together. But do as you think best. You know that I am nothing but a soldier down here a soldiering. This is all for this time. I would like to kiss you once before I go to bed and maybe after, don’t you think I would. And don’t you think it would taste good. So good night. The boys has got louder so I have to stop.
John Hagar to my wife, Phebe Hagar
Write often.
Letter 128
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas
April the 22 1864
Today I have got a letter from Joseph Hager but it has been a good while a coming—March the 6th.
Phebe, you wanted to know what I meant by saying that is all you would care for as long as I hain’t any money to send you. What did you think I meant? I will tell you just what I meant. I meant you had wailed a good while for money and I hain’t never sent home much money yet. Phebe, that is all right as far as I am concerned. Now Phebe, if you can sell your land for anywhere what it is worth, then sell it for I think there is just as good places in the world as that is.
I am a goin’ to try to save 200 dollars yet before my time is out but maybe I shan’t save a cent. I know I shan’t if I need it as bad as I did last year.
Phebe, that likeness that I left in the tent and in my coat pocket, I have got and the coat. But my overcoat and blanket has gone to the devil or some other good place. Phebe, I have got me a good chest. It has got a double lock on it. Now I can put my things in it and if we go from here, I shall send it home to you. I cost me 3 dollars. If we don’t go into the field again, then I shall bring it home with me.
Well my dear, do as you think best and I will be suited with it. Write often to me. This from your friend, John Hager to Mrs. Hager
The little vessel called the Tortugas has come from Key West. It takes out the mail. They say in the month of August and September, we shan’t get mail as often as we do now so I will write when I can send it.
Letter 129
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas, Fla.
April 25, 1864
My Dear,
Today I take my pen in hand to write a few lines to you to let you know that I am well and hope this will find you and the children all well. Phebe, I don’t hardly know what to write to you for I don’t know but you have gone to Michigan. The last letter that I got from [you] was written on March the 19th. You was at Hat’s then and you thought then that you would sell your farm and go up to Michigan and see how you would like it there. I hope you will like it there. If you go there, maybe you can manage to buy you a small place there. I don’t care nothing about coming into Richland to live again for I think there is better places for me to get along. George told me that John Robbins was dead. Where does his wife live? Now that’s tough for her but I suppose John got a large bounty the last time, didn’t he?
The boys in the 110th [New York] are a talking about enlisting over again this fall but I shan’t—not for no bounty that the government will pay. I don’t care a damn how big they pay. If I live, I am a comin’ home and spend the rest of my days with my family. But I feel contented here. But you know that I have got to stay just so long or desert and that I shan’t do. If I had wanted to do that, I could of before now. But that ain’t what I came down here for, nor what I enlisted for. I am now tougher than I have been in one year but I ain’t as tough now as I was when I left home. I think it will agree with me here. We get a good cold breeze here but the sun is pretty hot here in the middle of the day. But I don’t think that it is any warmer here than it is at New Orleans for we get a cold breeze all the time. But this is farther south.
We can see some land here. There is one island called Bird Key. It is most as big as this fort. It is 6 miles from here and there is some other small island here in sight. So you can see that we ain’t out of sight of everything. We catch some fish here. It is a large place for fish here. Tell Emma that I will send her some shells for her some earrings. I hain’t got enough now to send. When I find a few more, then I shall send them by mail. It don’t cost much.
Well, I will stop writing now for I have got to go on Dress Parade. It is Sunday today but it is all the same here as any other day you know. So I will say goodbye to you once more. Phebe, my dear, write often. John Hager to Phebe Hager
Letter 130
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas, Fla
May 7, 1864
My dear,
Tonight I hain’t nothing else to do so I write a few lines to you. We are a looking for a boat tonight with mail but I don’t know as it will come. But we are all anxious to hear from home. We don’t get any news here. We don’t get any papers here–only what comes from home. Some of the boys has sent home for the Mexico [New York] paper but I shan’t send for it for I don’t think we will stay here long. But maybe we shall stay till fall. I s’pose they will want us to enlist over again after the first of August. Then we can enlist for 3 years more if we like, but I don’t see the point.
I don’t think there is many that will reenlist unless they do as they did in New Orleans. The officers give them all the whiskey they wanted. Then they was all ready to be veterans. But I don’t think they are smart enough to con any such game on this boy. But they are a talkin’ that we will get a furlough of 30 days in our own state. But I think that I had rather stay one year longer and then come home to stay. Three years longer—that looks like a good while for me to soldier. But they pay a big bounty, but Uncle Sam can’t pay a big enough bounty to keep me away from my family. Now put that in your pipe and smoke it, if you please.
My dear, I got your kind letter today. You say you got the money and I am glad you have got better. But Delta1 says that you ain’t very well now. I wrote Delta a letter but it was short. You say that I must be savin’ of paper. Phebe, I don’t play card now-a-days and I never did play for money. The reason that I have stopped is I can beat the best of them and they say that I cheat and that makes a fuss in camp. So I swore off initially and don’t play anymore. But I swear some—but not much. That is all the bad habits that I have got that I know of.
I wrote to Nancy that she must be a good Christian, then she would have better luck. I told her that I was all sound on that. Nothing more today. Direct to Fort Jefferson, 110th Regiment, Co. B., Tortugas, Fla. Write when you get this. You said in your last letter that you should start the 18th of April. So, I s’pose this will follow after you. This from — John Hager
To Phebe Hager, my dear wife
1 Delta Cora Calkins (b. 1853) was a step-sister of Phebe’s.
Letter 131
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas
May the 15th 1864
Gardner [Hager] and Mary, 1
Today I take my pen in hand to write a few lines to you to let you know that I am among the living yet and I am well and hope this will find you all well and enjoying yourselves for I enjoy myself first-rate here [even] if I am away down here to Tortugas. This is what I call one foot on dry land and the other on the sea. In other words, it is away off two peeks beyond any place. But it is healthy here.
It is pretty warm here. The thermometer stands 96º today here in the shade. That ain’t as warm as it was last June on the 14th day [at Port Hudson]. That was a little the warmest day that I have seen yet. But we are farther south here.
There were 278 prisoners came here. They came from Fort Delaware. There were 25 guards came with them on the boat. They got the prisoners all off, then one of the men took his gun and held the muzzle of it in his mouth and pulled it off with his big toe. Some of our boys saw him pull off his boots but didn’t know what he was a tryin’ to [do and they couldn’t] get to him. I was on guard duty at the time. I was up on top of the fort. We have two up there at a time. This fort is 30 feet high. I was where I could see this man. He died in less than one minute. That is what I call mustering out of the service without any mustering officer. He didn’t want to soldier any longer. He had been in two years and had reenlisted over again. The other men said he was a good soldier and always kept himself clean. They thought he must have been crazy or he wouldn’t have shot himself. And so it goes in war times when men can’t find any Rebs to shoot. But I think there are plenty of them yet.
We hear that Old Banks has had a pretty hard battle up 60 miles above Red River—a four-days fight and the Rebs drove him back two days, but old General Emory reenforced him so he give them the best of hell. But we lost a good many men and so did they. We haven’t heard as much about it as we shall. I know when Banks started from New Orleans he had a good army. I was there when he started, but the state of Louisiana is large and the Rebs—they know just how it all lays. But they don’t know just how to take the Yankees—not every time. They stick to it like death to a dead darky. But we are a goin’ to whip the Devil right out of them yet. But it looks rather dark right now. I am in hopes this war will come to a close this summer, but it looks rather dark on both sides to me.
Our boys are talking about reenlisting this fall after we have been two years. Then you know we can reenlist and get the big bounty. But damn all the bounty. You know when I have stayed down here three years, that will be pretty well for me. But if they will go right in and say, damn them, then I wouldn’t mind of stayin’ a little while. But they are awful slow, I think.
So write when you get this. — John Hager to
Gardner Hager and Mary Hager—So Goodbye.
1 This letter was written to John’s older brother, Gardner Presson Hager (1825-1892) of Richland, Oswego county, New York. Gardner was married to Mary A. Holmes (1831-1888) in July 1848. By the 1880 US Census, he had relocated Fife Lake, Grand Traverse, Michigan. He was buried in Richland, however.
Letter 132
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas, Fla
May 26, 1864
My dear,
Today I take my pen in hand to write a few lines to you. It hain’t been long since I wrote but I hain’t got nothin’ else to do so I write to you. Phebe, I am well and hope this will find you all well and we hear good news from Grant’s army. He is the old chap that will make the rebs fly if they had wings, but they hain’t, so they will run when he gets them out of their breastwork. They never will come right out and fight Old Grant for they know him like a book. They know he is a fightin’ man and I am a goin’ to have this thing brought to a close this summer. I think this war has lasted about long enough now. But maybe he will get whipped out but I will be damned if I believe it for he never has been whipped yet and he has done more fightin’ than any other two generals in the war.
We don’t hear much about the war here, but some of the boys get the Mexico [New York] paper and sometimes they get the Pulaski [New York] paper. The boat don’t come more than once a week from Key West but sometimes the mail comes right straight from New York. There has been a good many boats in here since I came here. Some days there has 3 come in one day. They brought fat cattle and brick and cement for to build the fort.
Phebe, I don’t know but you think that I write pretty often but I han’t nothin’ to hinder me so I will write. I don’t s’pose you can read half of it after I get it wrote but you know that I am a damn poor writer but I have wrote pretty often [even] if it ain’t written so good. And if you [can] read one half, then you see it does pretty well. Well I don’t think of nothin’ more today so I will close but I would like another letter from you so I could hear how you like it up there. There is a boat a goin’ out tonight so I write this. It may be that there won’t be another one in two weeks. We don’t never know when they come—not till they get here.
Letter 133
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas, Fla.
May 29, 1864
Today I take my pen in hand to write a few lines to you. Today is Sunday so I write. Phebe, in the first place I am well and I hope this finds you all well and happy.
I seen John Lowery. He has to stay here 2 more years because he has been in the guard house the most of the time. He says he hain’t had one pay since he left Oswego. He has to work but he hain’t out and about.
Well, old woman, you hain’t never told me whether you have sold your land or not. If I knew whether you had, then I would write a little different. I would tell you how I would do. Is that land got any water on it? and how much does it cost for the 80 acres lot? You spoke about 18 or 20 for 600. Has it got a house on it? But do as you think best for you know that I am here and you are there but if you don’t like it there, then don’t stay there. I think that I should like it up there [to Michigan]. I want you to write to me just what kind of land you can buy if you think of buyin’ or if you have bought. then write all about it and what you have paid for it.
I must try to send you $50 in July, if I hain’t sick. I must send home $200 between now and next fall. Old woman, don’t put too much dependence on me. You don’t know what may happen in 15 months, but I think that I shall come out all right if I don’t get sick again or go to sleep on my post. Some of the boys have. They are a waiting for their court marshal now. I suppose all they will do with them is to stop 2 or 4 months pay but I don’t never sit down when I am on post. It is against the law for a sentinel to sit down. They are pretty strict here. Every man has to look just so clean and have his shoes blacked every time when he is on duty. If he hain’t all right, then he is put in the guard house. I hain’t been arrested yet since I have been a soldier. That is more then a good many can say. But I mustn’t brag for I may do somethin’ to be arrested. If I do, I will write home to you for I do write all the good and bad to you.
I want you to tell me how large a place Almont [Michigan] is and whether there is any bank there or not. And tell me how far it is to the railroad/ Is there any mills around there? How much is lumber worth there? Is there any stone there? Now sit down someday and write and tell me all about it. If you think of buying any land there and if you have bought, then tell me about it. Do you think you and I can get a living there better than we could in York State?
Phebe, I hope you will be contented there if you conclude to stay there. What rent do you have to pay for a house and what kind of a house it is? It is a pretty new place there. I s’pose. How does Charlie like it up there? Tell him I want him to write me what his Aunt Rhoda said when you wrote to him to come home to go to Michigan.
Charlie, I do hope you learn to read and write better than I can this summer. You must write a little in every letter and Emma must write her name under her Mother’s in every letter. That will learn them better to read and write. I know damn well if I had been a better scholar, I wouldn’t be in the 110th [New York] today. I would have got detailed for something. There are a lot of good chances for a fellow to get into business. I could have gotten into business there in New Orleans but I knew I wasn’t a good reader or writer. I was offered a berth to clerk it for the officers while I was there but I didn’t take it because I don’t have good learning enough so I will be a waiter. They told me that I had better take it for I would gert 40 cents more a day, so you see that good learnin’ is worth money to anybody.
My dear, I will send you some money but I don’t know when we will get any more pay so I keep what I have got. I have got $10 and if I knew you needed it, I would send it to you. You don’t tell me if you have anything to eat or drink.
Next Sunday I will try to send you $50 if nothing happens to me. Sometimes I think I will send home all my wages but I do hate to beg and steal same a some of the boys do. I told you when I left home that I didn’t think I would make much money being a soldier but if we both live, I am in hopes we can make a living. I think I have learned a little about the world. I think if you live and don’t buy any land, you will do pretty well. I s’pose them that I owe want their pay but they will have to wait till I come home to earn it. And then if they don’t talk about it right, they never will get anything from me. They can’t do nothing after I get home under one year and I can make up my mind whether to pay them or not. I don’t believe in cheatin’ anybody out of their honest due, but it is pretty damn hard for a fellow to come off down here and stay 3 years and let them stay at home. So I think I have the hardest of it if I don’t never pay anything if I do live to come home. This is the way I look at it. So you can see how I feel about matters and things.
Well, I guess I have wrote all you will want to read and then some. I will say excuse the short letter and if I have things that is wrong then please tell me and when I come home to see you then I will make it all right. This from John Hager to Phebe Hager
Letter 134
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas, Florida
June 23, 1864
Today I take my pen in to write a few lines to you. I am well and hope these lines will find you all well. But I don’t s’pose it will find [your sister] Jane very well. But I am in hopes it will. Phebe, it beats the devil how she lives along so as she does, don’t it. You said write how George was. He has got pretty smart. He is in the cook house to work now. He looks a pretty tough now but we have got a good many sick in the regiment. But there ain’t many sick in our company—not but two I think. So you see our company is pretty healthy now.
Well, old woman, we are all politics here but the 110th [New York] are a’most all for Old Abe. He is the man that will be the next President but I want John C. Fremont. He is the man that I had rather have for President. But Old Abe will win. My dear, you know that soldiers can vote this fall but we will have to send it home and I think that I shall go for Old Abe. You know that I voted for him four years ago and now I am down here but I don’t think that we could get a better man for a President/ I don’t know whether I can vote there or not and I don’t know whether we can vote in York State but I shall find out where. There is five months before the election. Old Grant is a pretty good man but he don’t want to run. He is a Democrat but I don’t know as that hurts him. I had just as leave have a Democrat as anybody. Old Abe has had a pretty damn hard time of it and he has done first rate, that we all know, but the Copperheads, they don’t like nobody but Copperheads and they are a gettin sick of them.
I am on duty tomorrow. There is a boat in sight so I thought that I would write a little today.
I have been reading the New Testament all day today but I don’t find any place where it tells when the war is a goin’ to end or when Uncle Sam is a goin’ to send me home. But I find a good deal of good readin’ in it. I find the word slaves in there and I will tell you where it is. It is in Revelations, 18th Chapter, Verse 13. That is the only place you can find it. You know that Old Dunham [?] said the word slaves wasn’t in there but he was a damned old liar. It is there. But I don’t think it is right to keep them damn negroes in bondage. But they are a damn hard nation. They are tough and I don’t like them—not a bit. You will see them a struttin’ around there in New Orleans. They feel bigger than Old Banks and they can’t tell the truth now ways, and they will steal anything that they can get hold of, but they never stole anything from me.
Well, I guess that I have wrote all you can read and maybe more but I hain’t wrote nothin’ but the truth, nor I never do make it any worse than it is. Phebe, I want you to keep some of the letters that I sent to you but I s’pose you burnt them all before you left home. If I should ever come home, I might want to see them when we was up the Teche country and at Port Hudson. But I don’t care much for them but if you have got any of them, I wish you would keep a few of them so I can see where I have been. I have got four or five of yours that I got more than a year ago but I have destroyed most all of them. I have 8 or 10 now and I have got that little lock of hair yet. It don’t look much like my little lady’s hair. I was lookin’ at you all today.
This from your friend John Hager
To Phebe Hager. I don’t know as you can read this.
Letter 135
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas
24 June 1864
Today I got a letter from you that you wrote May the 6th and that told me what it cost for you to go up there. I thought it rather strange that you didn’t write something about the things and what you done with what few traps you had but this letter went to New Orleans and it was a awful while a comin’. The last letter that I got before this wasn’t but 12 days a comin’ (that was June the 3rd). I don’t know how long it does take for a letter to get where you are but I write one a week and sometimes two. If that ain’t often enough, then you must say [so] and I will write more.
Phebe I don’t know hardly what to write to you but I will tell you that I am well and hope you are and all the rest of the folks. I don’t know when I can send this. The boat has gone from here to mainland after Co. F. The boat had a company of darkies to relieve them. We haven’t got men enough here.
Well, today is the 25 of June and all is well today. It is 22 months since we was mustered into the United States Service. So we have got 14 months more to serve. That ain’t 3 years I hope the war will be all over before my time is out. Well, old woman, now I am a goin’ to tell you what I think about your buyin’ a place there or anywhere else. I think you had better buy a small one—not any more that you can pay for, for you can’t put much dependence on me for we can’t tell what will happen in 14 months. I s’pose we will go in the field this fall and maybe we will go in July, but I don’t think we will. But time goes off faster when we are in the field than it does here. It ain’t a bad place here to soldier. I like it better here than I thought I could.
I got a letter from Gardner and Mary. They are well. They said they had been up to Ezra’s. They are all well. Mary wanted to know if things looked right in Michigan to you. She said that there don’t nothin’ look right to you. She wants I should tell her how you like it there and how things look to you. I have wrote to them that I am well and hope they all be and I had a letter from my old woman and she was well and the children and they like it up there pretty well. But I told them that you hadn’t been there long enough yet to know how you did like it there but you thought it was healthy there. That is all I that I wrote about you to them—only that I would like to see you my dear. I will tell you my reasons for buying land. You know that land is up to the top notch and money is pretty plenty and after the war, money won’t be half as plenty as it is now, and land won’t be as high, and I don’t want but a small farm if I should live to come home. I think that I can get a living and not work as hard as I used to. But I don’t think that I could follow cooperin’ when I get home. I might work at that one or two years more. There is a big shop in Niles [Michigan] about 125 miles from where you are but if I could get anything else to do, I won’t work at cooperin’.
But Phebe, you never mind nothing about what I write. Maybe you have bought you a farm before this gets where you be. If you have, it is all right as far as I am concerned. I think you will do the best you can and that is as well as anybody can do. I won’t advise you much what to do for maybe you won’t like it. I thought it would be well enough for me to put in a word or two as long as you don’t know much about buying land. I will be suited with what you do.
Well my dear, I ain’t nothing more to write this time only I would like to send you a little money. But if we leave here, then I want to send home all the clothes that I don’t want to wear. I have got 5 dollars and I have got some things that is worth sending home but I don’t know when we will go from here. But I hope we will get our pay in July. I have got 4 months pay due me and they told that I had 13 dollars due me for clothes. I hope that I shall get that but if nothing happens I shall send you 50 dollars when I get my pay. If it is necessary, I will sell my watch when I get my pay. It won’t do me any good to sell it now for the boys haven’t no money.
[Editor’s Note: The following sheet was undated but may have been added to this letter as the previous portion was unsigned. It dates to late June 1864.]
Well, my dear, I will write a little more to you and the rest of the good folks. In the first place I must tell you what has happened here. For the last week, Co. K is over at Key West to do provost duty. There is a Colored regiment there besides this company of the 110th [New York]. Co. K lost 8 men with the Yellow Fever and one lieutenant. Lieutenant [Chauncey] Gardner was his name. 1 He was a good officer. He was one of the best in the 110th, I thought. But the fever hain’t got here yet—not as I know of. But we do have a good many sick here.
Dave Reese—he has been sick ever since I came here. I don’t know as you know who I mean. He is that chap that married that girl that [ ] to Old Fleming’s. But he is better now. If it wasn’t for that fever, this would be a healthy place here. I am in hopes it won’t get here. The regiment that was here before we came here, they stayed here 18 months and didn’t lose but one or two men but the last one, while they was a goin’s to New Orleans, he fell of the boat right across the river from New Orleans and he come up 4 times and then went down. That was the last that they saw of him. So there is lots of ways to get rid of soldiers. This is one great reason that I want you should get some small place so you can learn Charley to work and I hope you can bring him up to like you, and Emma–she will stay with you as long as you live, I know. And I hope Charley will [too] if you shan’t ever see me again.
But Phebe, if I had one thought that I wouldn’t ever see you again, I would send someone after the children and have you come down here. But I don’t think no such thing for i want to see you once more and I shall. I come down here to fight the Rebels and I am ready to do it.
Now I must write a line to Samuel and Jane, or you can read it to them: Often-Thought-of-Brother-and-Sister, I am writing a few lines to Phebe, so I write one word to you. I am glad to hear from you…All Phebe says is Samuel Fox’ are all well, but Jane and her health is poor. I am sorry for that, but it can’t be no other way, I suppose. Samuel, I want you to help the Old Woman find a small farm that will suit her and Then I am there, I will pay you for your trouble. I think she had ought to find a piece of land somewhere there that would suit her. But if she cannot find any there, then I think she had better go back after she gets her visit made out. I s’pose she has made you twice glad before now, but Samuel, I want you should kind of see to buying a piece of land if you will. I don’t want her to pay too much for land there. Phebe, you will have to read this for them.
The boys are all politics today here. Some say Old Abe must be our next President but I shall go for John C. Fremont. He is my man but I am afraid he won’t get it. Old Abe, he is pretty good but rather slow. Samuel, I don’t know what your politics is but I know if you vote for anybody, you will vote for one or the other of these men. I know you ain’t no Copperhead as many of them there are. I shall have to send my vote to someone to put in for me. Michigan all goes for Old Abe so the boys are a tellin’ here today. But I don’t believe that. But he has done first rate, takin’ all things in consideration. You know we hain’t anything ready when the war first began.
Samuel, I don’t think of nothin’ more to write, but when I come there, then we will talk it all over and make it right if it ain’t now. This to Samuel and Jane.
— John Hagar
1 Chauncey Gardner—Age, 28 years. Enrolled, August 8, 1862, at Parish, to serve three years; mustered in as first lieutenant, Co. K, August 19, 1862; died of disease, June 23, 1864, at Key West, Fla. Commissioned first lieutenant, September 10, 1862, with rank from August 19, 1862, original.
2 David Reese—Age, 28 years. Enlisted, August 6, 1862, at Hastings, to serve three years; mustered in as private, Co. D , August 11,1862; mustered out with company, August 28, 1865, at Albany, N . Y . ; also borne as Reece.
Letter 136
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas, Florida
June 26, 1864
Well, my dear, inspection is over. You know we have inspection every Sunday and I have got up on my bunk. My bunk is the top one. I have read your letter over today and I think you and Mary has done pretty well a lookin’ at land. Now I guess you and Mary are cared to be suited but I don’t know what to tell you. But I will tell you what I would do if I was in your place. I would suit myself for you don’t know what may happen [to me]. You know that I am off to war, but I expect to come and live with you again and I presume, raise a lot more boys. I hope so, don’t you? You know I write a lot of nonsense unless this won’t read right. But I don’t know what you will say to my letters or to this one but they won’t hurt you. I don’t think but some woman say their men send home a bag in a letter to them but I can’t do that to my wife I know.
Well, my dear I will get up and write now for I wrote this other a laying down on my bunk. But I am sitting up now writing this on my knees. Now then, Mrs. Hager, my wife, I will tell you what I would do if I was in your place. In the first place, if it weren’t for Jane being sick, I would say that you had better go back to New York State. But I don’t know but you like it there in Michigan. If you do and you can buy you a small place there and live pretty near Jane and Samuel, [then fine]. But if you don’t like it there, don’t buy no land. I know there is some places there that is sickly but I don’t know but it is healthy there where you are. I don’t think it best for you to go into the woods to live. You can get more off from 5 acres of good cleared land than you can from 140 that ain’t cleared. Phebe, you must use your own judgement and do as you think best.
But one year from now I shall be with you there somewhere and time goes pretty fast I think. Well, my dear, I have been to dinner now and I will finish this. You said that you wish that I would send some of the letters that I have from home to you. I have sent one that John Calkins sent to me. That was a good one. Don’t you see it is. I wrote him one just as good a one as he dare write to me.
You didn’t say whether you had got them [sea]shells or not. I sent them the same time that I did the letter that you got. I want to send you two more shells if you get them. Phebe, I want you to tell me where I shall send my chest of clothes if I should leave here. I can’t carry them on a march and they are worth too much to lose. But I don’t know when we shall go. Maybe not at all. But the talk now is that we leave here the first of August but I don’t hardly know I believe it yet. But I shan’t know one day before we go. But if we do go, we will go back to New Orleans or to Red River. That is where old Banks got whipped out this spring. Old Banks ain’t worth much to fight. Old Emory is the best fighting man in the 14th Army Corps. He beats Old Banks but Banks is in command of the 14th Army yet.
You spoke of the prisoners here. There is about 800 of them and we expect 200 more. We have got about two hundred soldiers to guard them. 1 They might raise against us and we could kill them all in a short time. They han’t no guns you know and we have all got guns and 40 rounds. We have to have a guard all the time for when we go to eat they might come into our rooms and get our guns. Then they would be all right if they want to do anything. But they are soldiers and they don’t want to hurt us. But some of them are here for life but it won’t do them any good if they could whip us out for we have got boats at Key West and troops there. They could not go no farther than Cuba Island. That is 60 miles to Key West. Well, I must stop for the want of room to write this from.
— John Hagar to Mrs. Hagar, my wife
1 “In November 1864, only 583 soldiers guarded 882 prisoners and eight were able to escape.” [Source: Wikipedia]
Letter 137
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas, Florida
July 20th, 1864
Today I take my pen in hand to write a few lines to you for I have nothing else to do today. I am well and hope this will find you all well but I don’t know as it will for it has been 3 weeks now since I heard from you. I don’t know when the mail will come in again but we look for it in a day or two. Co. K is at Key West. They have lost 19 men with the yellow fever, but it ain’t here yet. Our boys are the most all getting better; one died yesterday. He is one of Co. F boys. That makes 6 that we have lost here on this island and 19 at Key West. That ain’t many but after all it seems a good many to me for our regiment is getting small.
Today is the 22nd and I am off guard again and no mail yet. I will tell you a little thing that happened at Mobile the other day. We have got the captain and pilot that Old Farragut took. They was blockade runners. They own themselves that they had run the blockade 7 times before but this time Old Farragut caught them and he sent them here for two years before their trial t o be kept in close confinement. They are smart looking men. Their cargo was worth two hundred million–$2,000,000–of dollars besides the boat. They had a little of a’most everything aboard; a large quantity of corn. Old Farragut is down to Mobile himself now and he is just a givin’ the Rebs fits about now—especially blockade runners. The Rebs have lost that big ship called the Florida. Our folks sunk her. She has been a raisin’ the devil ever since…
We are looking for the mail tonight but I don’t know as it will come in, but I shall look pretty sharp for I want to hear from my Old Woman once more. It was in June the last letter that I had and it is [now] July the 22nd. Now I will stop writing till tomorrow for the mail won’t go out—not under 3 or 4 days yet—so I shall have time to write all you will want to hear if not more, if you can read it. My pen is (an) awful poor one. I must get another one. This is all for today.
Today is the 23rd and all is well, but the mail hasn’t come in yet… but there has 2 gunboats come in here and one monitor. They came in here after coal and water. They are a goin’ to Mobile from here. This monitor is about 200 feet long. It is all under the water but about 20 inches. The mail boat is in sight but there ain’t no wind today and it is a sail boat.
Well, today is the 24th of July and the boat has come in and me didn’t get any mail, but I must keep writing whether I get any letters or not. The boat is a goin’ back to Key West today and maybe it will fetch us a mail the nest time. It has been more than a month now since I have had a letter from you. It seems a good while. This is three days that I have been a writin’ this letter. I can’t think of nothing more to write this time, but be a good girl and I will come and see you in one year and one month. Then my time will be out and then I shall want to see you whether you do me or not. — John Hager
To Phebe Hager, my wife and friend.
Letter 138
Fort Jefferson Tortugas, Florida
August 12, 1864
Today, I take my pen in hand to write a few lines to you. It has been two weeks since I had a letter from you. I have been sick again with the Bone Fever but I have got over it again. I am able for duty now. We had a mail today but no letters for me. I did think that I would but it takes a good while for them to come. We got the Mexico [New York] paper. They have had a big fire there. It burned from Snells to the brick. It burned the big tavern and everything all clean on that side of the road. I think they get burnt out pretty often. Their fire burnt most to Pulaski. It burned over a good many meadows. It has been awful dry there this summer.
Flour is 12 and 14 dollars per barrel. Everything is pretty high there. What is flour worth where you are and what is corn worth? Tell me in you next if you please, if you are alive. I don’t know but you and the children have starved to death but I hope not. I have got over $100 dollars due me now but God only knows when I shall get it. But I s’pose you have got money that you can get if you hain’t got it and paid it all out for land. Some say we will get our pay in September but I don’t know whether we will—but I hope so.
Well, I don’t hardly know what to write. I hain’t think of nothing to write so I will stop this. From John Hager to Phebe Hager. Write as soon as you get this.
Letter 139
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas, Florida
August 22, 1864
My dear,
Today I take my pen in hand to write a line or two. It has been over one month since I have heard from you. I don’t know what the reason is. Sometimes I think you are dead and maybe you are mad cause I hain’t sent you any money, and maybe the reason is cause I wrote such God awful letters. I know there must be something the matter of you or I would have got a letter before this time. We have had three mails now and not a letter for me. I did think that I wouldn’t write till I got one but I can’t wait no longer so I write this short one to you.
I am well myself and hope you are. I don’t know if you get all my letters Phebe. I haint got my pay yet but I know you can get along some way. You can write oftener than once a month. The last letter that I got from you was wrote July the 7th and now it it is August 22nd. That is a hell of a while to wait, don’t you see it is. I am a one year soldier now and you see I feel pretty good about these days. It only lacks 5 days of being two years since I have seen you. We left Oswego the 27th day of August.
Our boys are gettin’ well now. It has been cooler here than it has been. I hain’t nothin’ more to write—not till I get a letter or hear from you in some shape. Tell the children that I am well and hope they are the same. I would like to see you all.
John Hager to Phebe Hager, my forgetful wife.
Letter 140
Fort Jefferson Tortugas, Fla
August 27, 1864
You see it has been just two years today since I left Oswego and all is well with me, and hope it is with you. But I don’t know hardly what to think about you. I don’t get no letters. It will soon be two months since heard from you and it seems a good while to me. There was a boat come from Key West today but had no mail on her. We all was disparing. We that it would have a big mail for us. Phebe I haven’t nothin’g’ to write this time. The mail goes out today so I thought that I would write a line or two to tell you that I am yet among the living and am well and hope this will find you all well. Nothin more today.
John Hager to Phebe Hager
Letter 141
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas, Florida
September the 10, 1864
Phebe, today I thought I would write you a few lines to let you know how I was. I am well and hope this will find you all well. It is a’most all mighty hot here this month but it is some cooler nights than it was last month. Our boys are gettin’ pretty tough now only the scurvy. Some has got that. We don’t get enough green fruits to eat. We hain’t had but two messes of potatoes in 6 months. Bread and meat and coffee, but we have some fresh meat once a week. We are in hopes we will get some potatoes when the next boat comes in. We are looking for it every day. When we do get them I don’t s’pose we can have more than one meal a week but I could eat a whole peck of potatoes. Only 11 months more, then I can have all the potatoes I want.
Our mail hain’t gone only to Key West for the last month until a few days ago. There was a steam boat called the Nightingale went from Key West to New York and she had as many as 2 or 3 letters from me to you on it—maybe more. I am in hopes we shall get our pay this month but don’t see no signs of it, but maybe when the boat gets back from New York, it will have a paymaster on it. If it don’t, then maybe we will have to wait 2 months more but I can get along well enough if I don’t get any money, but I would like to send you about 100 dollars for I know that you must need some. I sent a letter the last boat so I will send a few lines on this one to you. I don’t know but you will be mad because I write so often to you but we don’t have a chance to send them every day here. But boats will run more regular now so I s’pose that you [will] get three or four at once. But I hain’t been troubled in havin’ many for the last two months.
Some of the boys got letters from the Oswego County. They say it is war times and nothing but war there. They are all afraid they will be drafted. They are offering 1000 to 1500 for substitutes if they are drafted. It will make some of their old purses squeak to pay that. But let them come. They ain’t no better than the rest of us. We volunteered to come like men and let them do the same.
My eyes are a little better but I can’t see first rate in the night yet. But I hope they will come around.
Cotton cloth is .75 now at Pulaski and everything is high. I don’t know what women will do. Men can wear woolen shirts but just one size here in the army. Wish I could send Charley a pair of pants. I can draw as many shirt and pants as I need.
Nothin’ more today. Aunt Jane might kiss my little lady once for me if she has a minute. I wish you all good health and good luck. I hope Charley will be a good boy and mind his mother. It ain’t but a little while and I will be there with you. All of this to my Phebe Hager, my wife.
— John Hager
Letter 142
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas, Florida
September 13, 1864
Today I take my pen in hand to scribble a few lines to you. I must send you a few lines every time the mail goes out. I am well and hope this will find you all well. I am a feelin’ first rate—all but I have got the piles and I am rather poor in flesh just now. The mail come in three days ago but I didn’t get any letters. I don’t know hardly what to write so I won’t write much this time.
It is pretty healthy here at the present time. We hain’t but a few men sick in the regiment now. A few has got the scurvy. That is caused by not having no potatoes. The prisoners are worse than the soldiers. They eat more salt meat but they have some beef but they don’t eat any potatoes.
I think now that we shall stay here till next spring but I had rather be in the field than to be here. It don’t agree with me to lay in camp so long.
We got good news from Mobile, if it true, and from Atlanta. They say we have got them and a lot of prisoners. But we hain’t got Richmond yet nor Petersburg. But I think Old Grant will take them but he will lose a lot of men.
Well. I hain’t nothin’ new to write. It is the same thing right over every time. If you have got anything new, I would like to hear it. One thing new, there is a bark out here about one mile, they say. She has got on some potatoes but she has been 30 days a comin’ from New York and I some s’pose they are all rotten. They was on the other so we don’t get not a damn of a one. I am afraid it will be that same this time. Nothin’ more today. So goodbye for today.
— John Hager to Mrs.Phebe Hager, my wife and friend, I s’pose you are.
Letter 143
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas, Fla.
September 23, 1864
Mrs. Phebe,
Today I take my pen in hand to write you a few lines to let you know I am better now. The weather is quite cold here today and we are all pretty healthy now. My potatoes are fattening me up. I guess now that this place will agree with me here in the winter but it is a’most too warm in the summer here for me. I hain’t nothin to do today only to write this short letter. I can’t think of much to write but when you get it, if you don’t like it, then you can burn it up. The pens are all poor here and you know that I am a damn poor hand to write but I have wrote pretty often since I have been in the army.
I don’t get no answer from Chester. I don’t know as he gets all of my letters and he is rather slow to write and so is all the rest of the folks there at home. But they all write more now than they did before you went away. Rhoda—she has wrote more than all the rest. But you have wrote more than all of my brothers and sisters and all the rest of my friends. But they have all done pretty well. But you hain’t wrote much for the last 3 months. You have done very well. I s’pose you think it don’t pay to write to an old soldier too much, but old soldiers are glad to hear from home pretty often. There is a boat a comin’ in and I will wait and see what she has got onboard of her. Then I will finish.
Well, that boat has got in. She come from New Orleans. It brought 75 prisoners but I didn’t fetch any mail for us. So you see that there ain’t nothing new for me today. I shan’t send this—not till I get a letter from Chester unless I get one from you. If I do, then I shall send you one, for I have got 10 cents left. Soon I can send one more to you. If I don’t get any money from Chester, but I shall get it. But I am in hopes we shall get our pay now in a short time but I can’t tell about that. I guess I hain’t nothin’ more to write this time and I don’t know when it will go out but you must keep a stiff upper lip and when I come home then I will tell you all about Tortugas and a little about war. I s’pose you hear now all you want to about war but you don’t know nothin’ about it that I know. I know that myself. Do you know I have found out a little something about war in 2 years.
The 25 of September. Today is Sunday and all is well here with me. We look for a boat from Key West today but it hain’t got in sight yet, but when it does come, then we all look to lots of news. It is two years and one month today since we was mustered in the service at Oswego. Some say that we will have to stay till the 25th of next August but that ain’t but 11 months more and NO years. It counts months now, not years. 11 months ain’t long—not if a fella is only well. But if he is sick, every day seems like a year to him. But I am getting pretty tough again. We have good cold nights here but it is very warm here days. This has been as warm a month as we have had here this summer. But this month is a’most gone. I send my best respects to Samuel and Jane and family. I would like to see you all today but that can’t be.
It is rather lonesome place here but there is plenty of folks here. But they ain’t my folks. You know I have been a good while a sending this letter but I can’t send it now till the boat goes out and I don’t know how long it will be, but it will go sometime this month. If I could get all the potatoes that I want to eat then I think I should be better. They are 4 cents a pound here and they are worth more then that to me. So I think that I shall buy them. I don’t see why the government don’t furnish more potatoes and onions.
The damn officers—they have all that they want to eat and so do we but it is meat and bread. But a man can buy some fixins but it takes money you know. But we are a going to get more pay for this last year. We get 16 dollars a month now. I shall have 100 dollars to send you this payday. If I could get it today, it would suit me. I want Charley to have his sheep and you to have a cow if you can manage to keep them. Charley don’t write to me not at all. I don’t know what the matter is.
Does Emma grow much and how does she and Charley get along. Do they agree pretty well? Tell Charley that the must be good to his little sister. This is all for this time so good bye.
Today is the 27 and no mail yet, so I hain’t sent this yet. Today is a nice cool day and the prisoners are to work a digging out between the walls and the fort and hauling it up on top of the fort. There is a wall around this fort 8 feet high and 8 feet wide. It is about 60 feet from the fort and that has got 9 feet of water in it only where they are digging it out.
Today is the 28 of September and all is well—only the prisoners said they won’t go in there to dig anymore and so we was a’most all ordered out to guard them. We took our guns and then they all went right along. They didn’t say a word against going after they found that the 110th [New York] was after them. They have been all summer a pumping the water out. They pump it by steam. There is a good deal of water in this large ditch. It is all dug out but about 20 rods [110 yards] and that will be done this week if nothing happens. This old fort will be a nice one when it is all done. It will be over 50 feet high when it is done. I guess that I won’t write nothing more about this old fort for I s’pose that I have wrote all about it before. I know that I did write all about it to John and to Chester and to Old Blackhead. Tomorrow I shall finish this and send it whether I get any or not.
The mail has come in but I did not get any letters. But George got one and Pokey has enlisted and gone to Elmira, [New York]. John has gone too, and Port[er] Calkins and Ansel Calkins. That is about all the news that I got from there. But there is another mail gone to Key West. We expect a mail in tonight and I can send this on this boat if it carries mail.
It rains today. It looks like fall here. If I don’t get a letter from Chester this mail than I shan’t write to him again. I can come up with them in, but they are too damn lazy to write or too stingy or too much of something is the matter of them. I wrote to John and he han’t answered it. But damn the odds, writing won’t keep us alive. But after all, I like to hear from them all. Well, I han’t nothin’ more today so I will close.
John Hager to Mrs. Phebe Hager
Letter 144
Fort Jefferson Tortugas
October 5, 1864
Today I take my pen in hand to write a few lines to you. The mail came in today and no letter from my old woman but I will write to her all the same. I got a letter from Chet today. He sent me $5 and he said he would send me the honey right off. He said he went to the fair and everybody was there, so he sees them all but I don’t believe that for I wasn’t there and I am somebody, I know.
Phebe I hain’t nothin’ new to write to you this time but I thought that I would write a little today. I am gettin’ pretty tough again. I got some potatoes—20 pounds—and some butter and I can eat like a hog now. I have gained 10 pounds in two weeks but I ain’t very fat yet. But I don’t have no desire now. I am getting better now of the piles but I hain’t done nothin’ for two weeks—only eat. But I have walked once around the fort every day. But the doctor said I must keep pretty still. But I can’t lay down all the time, not when I can go. I never felt better in my life than I do now. Only the piles trouble me some yet but I think that I shall get over them after a while.
Phebe, I want you to write how you get along and all about it when you get this. I guess you think I have forgot you or I would send you some money, but I hain’t forgot you nor the children yet, and I shall send you all the money that you will want after I get my pay in November. They say we will get it then—8 months due me.
I guess that I will send Chester a letter to you. It is rather short one but I wrote sharp to him. I don’t have nothing to write about here as I did when I was at New Orleans. Then I wrote some pretty long letters to him and to you.
Now old woman, I want you to write what you will do with your place and how you get along to get grub for you and the children. Charley is a good deal of company for you, if it does cost a good deal to keep him. I know you are glad that you took him with you. You han’t ought to suffer for money for they have got plenty there at home. John got 1000. So, you see they have got plenty.
Letter 145
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas
October 8, 1864
Today I take my pen in hand to write you a few lines to let you know how I get along. I am gettin’ tough again and hope this will find you all well. I am, if it weren’t for last night. I dreamt that one of your neighbors brought me a little piece of paper and it said on it: “Phebe is E. D.” That is all there was on the paper and I thought that E. D. was for dead. So I thought you was dead when I was asleep. But I don’t think so now today. But last night I thought that. I felt awful bad, but today I don’t feel hardly as bad today.
But I thought I would write a little today. I know you will think that I am one damn fool but I can’t help that I have got this wrote and it is just as I thought it was last night. But today I don’t think much about it.
This morning the first thing, one of the guards came up to his breakfast and said that they heard 7 prisoners [had] gone out in a boat and we went up on top of the fort and we could see them with a spy glass. They was about 12 or 15 miles off. There has some of our boys gone after them in another small boat. Our boys took two days rations with them. I don’t know whether they will find them or not. They went toward [Araner?] but maybe they will get to Cuba. That ain’t but about 60 miles.
Our boys have got back. They got the prisoners. They [the prisoners] got out about 15 miles and they han’t no compass so they didn’t know what course to steer so they just went around and around. So they are in the dungeon with a ball and chain. Guess they will stay there a spell. This is all today. 1
Now today is the 11th and it is an awful windy, cold day. If our boys hain’t got them [prisoners], they would of went to the devil for the wind come up that night and blowed like hell and the old ocean looks pretty white yet. I see 3 large boats. They tussled around. It made me think of our coming around Cape Hatteras. The wind has gone down and we look for mail tomorrow morning from Key West. Then I will have a chance to send this. I han’t got nothing to write so I will stop and wait for one from you. Nothin’ more today.
John Hager to Mrs. Phebe Hager my old woman. Don’t forget to write.
1 “At its peak in 1864, Fort Jefferson housed nearly 900 prisoners with just over 600 soldiers to guard them. A total of eight prisoners escaped Fort Jefferson, but their fates are unknown. Those sentenced found it to be a fate worse than death. The harsh working conditions in the blazing heat of the tropical island, compiled lack of food and fresh water, earned the fortress the nickname Devil’s Island.” [Source: Emerging Civil War: Fort Jefferson, an Un-attacked Stronghold]
Letter 146
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas, Florida
October 15, 1864
My dear,
I got a letter from you today, It was dated the first day so it was 15 days old. That is a pretty late news from home. Phebe, I am sorry that you are so hard up but there is better days a comin’ I hope. Phebe, I told you to use some of your money if you need it and I knew you did. I was a good mind to send home after 25 dollars and send it to you but I didn’t know but what you used some of the money that you had. I told you how you could get money if you would send for it.
I was in hopes of gettin’ some money in November and have it get there to you so you can have what money you want to use if you are pretty saving of it and I [know] you will save all you can. I am sorry that I bought a watch last spring but I thought that we would get our pay every two months for there was 19 pay masters in New Orleans at that time. But I am here now and it has been 8 months since we have been paid and that is a good while for a soldier to have to wait. But we will get all the more.
Phebe, I blame you a little for not sendin’ home after a little money—enough to make you comfortable. I don’t want you to suffer while I am gone but I s’pose you have by [my] readin’ of this last letter you wrote. I am awfully sorry to get such a letter, I don’t like to get such a letter and I hope I never get another letter like it. I had rather hear that you had used up half the money you got for your land than to hear that you are so hard up. Don’t ever write it in another letter—not till after you try to see if you can get a little money of some of my friends or from some of yours. Then if you can’t, then write to me [and] tell me your circumstances and I will see what I can do. Don’t wait till you get all out of money and everything else.
But now it is so near pay day I don’t think it best to write home for money. I don’t think it would get there much sooner than I could get it to you. I bought potatoes with the money Chester sent me and some tobacco or I would have sent it home to you. Phebe, I need it worse than you do for I have the scurvy. My legs are sore below my knees. I have 10 or 12 sores on each ankle. They feel as though they are on fire when I get warmed up a little. But I am eatin’ potatoes and lemons. They are both good for scurvy. It is eatin’ so much salted meat but I haint ever eat any grease. I am a gettin’ a little better and I shall buy potatoes as long as I can get the money to get them with. But I can’t get them only once in a while. Then I don’t buy but a few.
A little more today. We all wrote our tickets. Half our regiment goes for Old Abe and I with the rest. But we hain’t got but a few McClellan men in the 110th [New York] and no Seymour men in the 110th. My dear, I had rather soldier one year longer and have the thing settled up right and have it so it will stay settled. I don’t never want to see another war. I don’t want to give them not one inch. Damn them. Put them right through now. We have got them till now and now is the time to slap it right to them. Now is the time that we want a good man for President and Old Abe has done well so far and let him go on. But he has been rather slow—but sure all the way along. He has had a good deal to do—more than 6 other presidents ever had to do in the world that you or l ever heard of. And so, I must vote for him and I think every honest man will go for him. They can’t help but go for him no matter what party he belongs to or they belong to. He is the man.
Well, my old woman, I must stop writing for you will get tired of reading my foolish letters but it is war times and you want me to write and so I will. It is election day here and there is some noise here about the election [even] if it is on Tortugas Island. We have got a few ladies. They talk like Copperheads. They talk pretty loud, but they can’t scare no good republican. Nothing more today. This is all, and the last end of the tale. Don’t forget to write often when you get paper. — John Hager
We take the papers here. We get them in every mail. That is how we know how the thing is a runnin’.
Letter 146
Fort Jefferson, Tortugas Fla.
November the 27, 1864
Phebe, I got your letter today with the 45 cents in it. I am sorry if I have wrote anything to hurt your feelings. I don’t remember one thing that I wrote in my last letters but I don’t think that there was anything very bad. If there is anything so bad I want you to send it back.
Phebe your letter found me well. I am getting pretty tough again. This climate don’t agree with me very well. Phebe, I don’t think that I [ ] much fault with you my dear. I han’t intend to, but my dear if [ ] want to answer my letters then [ ]. I s’pose I shall live just as long if you don’t write if you [ ] to get mad at what I write, then I don’t care a damn. I han’t got but a little more than 8 months more to soldier.
You say that I wanted you to tell how you get along and what you get to eat and how you got it. Now I don’t think there is anything wrong about that. If you think there is, then please tell me of it, but you don’t want to write, then say so but it don’t make no odds about my writin’ to you or sendin’ you my money when I get it…
Phebe, maybe I have written something that ain’t right. I never stop to read my letters over after I get them wrote. I never stop to read them to see how they sound but if you don’t like them then send them back or you can tell me to stop writing. But I have tried to suit you. I have done the best I could at any rate and I see that it don’t suit you so I don’t care a damn. I shan’t do no different [ ] until you show me where I’ve done wrong. Then I will make it all right if I can.
Well, the boat is a going out so I must send this. [ ] mail but I sent one yesterday.
You wanted an answer from this one so I set right down and wrote this. I han’t nothing more to write today. I would ask you to tell me how much of a farm Orson bought but I doesn’t ask no question for fear you won’t like it. You don’t want to be [ ] at all so I won’t ask you to tell me nothing more. Write what you are a mind to and I will do the same. Nothing more. This to Mrs. Phebe Hagar my wife, yours truly, — John Hager
Today is the 27 and we han’t got our pay yet. There was a General here from Washington to inspect us today. It is the reason that I han’t no more time to write. This all today. This to Charley Hager from John Hager
Letter 147
Fort Jefferson
December the 14, 1864
Mrs. John Hager,
I got your letter today that you wrote the 14th and 20th of November and I am glad to hear from you and hear that you are all well. I am pretty tough now myself and hope that I will stay so till my time is out. I am glad you have got moved in your own house but I don’t know hardly how you will get along there alone and without money or friends or anything else. But I thought Samuel would help you to anything that he could if he was sure of his pay. I am sorry that you can’t get anybody to cut what wood you want to burn this winter. The paymaster has gone to Washington after the money to pay the troops in this department but I don’t think we will get our pay now—not till January. Then we will get 10 months pay. That looks like payin’ every two months. I say that is a damn mean trick in the government. They had ought to pay so a fellow’s family won’t quite starve. It is most damn hard to starve and go cold and ragged and lousy and I don’t know but you have all got the itch by this time, but I guess not.
I got a letter from Nancy today. She says they are all well and they are having a great revival there. Mary Smith and George Cramer and Ettie has got pious and lots of others around there. Phebe, you say you have got that gun back. I wouldn’t take it back after I had traded it away but I wouldn’t take less than 10 dollars for it if I was there. But you may sell it or anything else that you can to get along till I get my pay. Tell me how much you owe. I mean to send you enough to pay what you owe and 100 dollars besides. Then I don’t s’pose that we will get our pay again—not until our time is out. Then Uncle Sam will pay us all off I s’pose. I want to bring home about 400 dollars with me.
How much did Orson get for his place? Tell me and tell me what he is a doin’ this winter. I know what I will do next winter if I live to get there. I will get me a good horse and ride out now and then I think, if the old woman don’t freeze to death nor starve this winter.
Phebe, you say direct to Goodland, Lapeer [county]. Tell me how far it is to the post office. I want to know so I shall know how often to write. If it is much trouble to get your letters then I won’t write so often. Now about your stove. I want you to get a new one when you get everything to buy it with. Maybe you can get one on time. If you can maybe that would be best. Do as you think best about that.
Phebe, I don’t know as it is best for you to buy a cow—not until I come home. But I don’t know much about it. You had ought to have one, but you han’t no hay nor no barn to keep nothing. But I want Charles to buy a few sheep when I send the money and he can hire them kept this winter. Then if you han’t got any good place to keep them, then I don’t know but it will cost more than it will come to. But I want to keep five sheep. I want Charley to have them if there is any such as keeping them on your place after I get there. I don’t s’pose you can keep them now for I don’t spose there is much fence on the place. But maybe you can buy them and hire them kept till next fall if you can buy them for $300 a head. The wool will be worth that to us. I think that sheep is the most profitable thing that anybody can keep on a farm.
You han’t never told me what kind of soil your land is nor whether it is level or stony nor what the timber is. Only you say there is 10 acres of cedar swamp on it. What kind of timber is that on the rest that ain’t cleared. If you please, I wan’t you to tell me how it looks around there and whether it is stony. Tell me what kind of house Orson has got. Tell me how far it is to your nearest neighbors.
Phebe, I want an answer from this letter before I send you the money. I want to see if it goes all right. But it will be a draft or a check on the bank but there can’t no one draw the money but you. How far is it to a store from where you live?
Nothing more tonight. The mail goes out at nine o’clock and I must put this in the office so l will stop. Don’t forget to write. This from John Hager to Phebe Hager, my wife.
Letter 148
Fort Jefferson, Florida
December the 23, 1864
Today I take my pen in hand to write a few lines. I am well and hope the lines will find you all well and happy. Last night was the first night that it has been cold enough to sleep with a blanket over me. But last night I had my blanket and shelter tent both over me. Then I wasn’t any too warm. It is as warm here now as it is in New York State in July. Only last night just again on dress parade it will make a man sweat like a man in the field at home in July. So you see this is a comfortable place to live in the winter but I think it is rather too warm for a northern Yankee to live. But it is less than eight months now to soldier and I am glad of that, but 8 months ain’t long you know. But 3 years—that is a century for a gentleman to stay away from his family. But it is war times you know, and it can’t be helped now. But my dear if I live to get home and find my little family all alive, I don’t think that I shall be sorry that I came. But it is a damn hard life to live for me. I don’t like it first rate myself.
I wish the mail would come along so I could finish this letter. There is a man here in the regiment that belongs in Michigan. He has lived there 15 years. He lives in Oakland County. He lives about 25 miles from Almont. He says it is a pretty good country for a man to live in. He says snow don’t fall more than 2 feet. He says it is a good fruit country there but he tells me that the [Prairie?] land ain’t near as good as any other but he says in all of the cedar swamps you will find good water as I ever see and that is what I want, you know. If your land is half good, dry land, I will risk be what we can get a good lean on it for I must bring home money enough to buy a horse and a cow or two. Then we can get along. Charley he will buyin’ enough to help us a good deal and he is a smart boy. And you know my boys are always the smartest in the world.
I must say a little about Miss Emma or she will think her papa [stiffs?] her. I think she is a smart little girl and I would like to see her and tell her one story about war. I know she would like to hear it and so would Charley. I know he would.
Today is the 24th and no mail yet so I write a little more today. I hain’t sent them shells yet but tell Emma that I will send them. I am a making a shell box. It will be worth $40 dollars when I get it done so I keep all of my best shells to put on that. I am a making it for my lady Emma Hagar. It will be a nice thing if I can get it home to her. But I don’t know but I shall keep it here with me till next spring. Then if few go into the field then I shall send home my chest and a lot of clothes I have got that I brought that I had to Oswego. It is good cloth. It will make Charley a good one and I have some other clothes that I shall bring home or send them but I don’t want to wear them myself, not after I get home, for they don’t suit me. But they can be made over for him and be worth savin’ maybe. I shall be glad to wear them for clothes is high. They say pants are worth 10 to 12 dollars now at Oswego. The same pants could be bought for 3 when we was there. But I think that things will come down after the war and I think that the war will be over by next spring. I hope it will be.
Tomorrow is Christmas. That is 3 Christmases that I have spent in the south. I have had a chance to see a good deal and had some good times and some hard ones.
Today is Christmas, the 25th of December, and it is a nice pleasant day, but rather lonesome to me. The mail has come and no letters for me but I will send this. It is a damn short letter I know, but I can’t help it. Dewain Spencer—he shot off his foot and he had to have it cut off. 1 The boys say he done it on purpose. They say he was a coward. Our boys got a letter from the 184th. This is the way I got my news. I wrote to John Calkins but he han’t answered my letter yet. Nothing more today so good day you for this time. John Hager to Phebe Hager, my wife.
I will send these two shells. They are what I call pretty nice ones if they don’t get broke. Tell me if they do.
1 Dewain Miles Spencer (1844-1920)—A 21 years-old shoemaker when he enlisted at Richland, Oswego county, New York. to serve one year, and mustered in as private, August 29, 1864; assigned to Co. B, 184th New York Regiment, December 29, 1864; mustered out with company, June 29, 1865, at City Point, Va. The 1890 Veterans Schedule states that Dewain had “partial loss of a foot.” He resided in Clearfield county, Pennsylvania, at that time.
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