Author: Gloria Wickman

Research Arsenal Spotlight 82: Thomas Conley 33rd Ohio Infantry

Posted on by Gloria Wickman

Thomas Conley was born around 1843 in Ohio. His father’s name isn’t known but his mother’s name was Margaret and she was born in Ireland. Thomas Conley enlisted on August 18, 1861 in Company B of the 33rd Ohio Infantry. He wrote the letters in this collection to his sister, Catherine (“Kate”), who married Joel C. Gabriel on March 13, 1861. His brother, James, is also frequently mentioned in the letters and resided with his mother.

The 33rd Ohio Infantry in Kentucky and Alabama

Army of the Tennessee at Huntsville, Alabama.
Army of the Tennessee at Huntsville, Alabama.

The first letter written by Thomas Conley in our collection was written on January 28, 1862 from Camp Jefferson, Kentucky. After being mustered into service in September 1861, the 33rd Ohio Infantry spent its first months in Kentucky. Thomas Conley wrote his letter while avoiding dress parade by hiding in a tent used to the store the arms of sick soldiers. He also revealed that he had just recently gotten over having the mumps.

“I received your letter 2 hours ago and was so glad to hear from you [that] I stopped writing a letter to Mary Jane. I received your letter and then finished writing her letter and against I got it done it was drill time and I had to go out and drill 2 hours. I have just got in from drill and am writing in an old tent where no one stays. It is used to keep the sick men’s guns in. I get in here so no one will trouble me while I am writing. I cannot write when there is so many around me. I am well now and hope these few lines may find you enjoying the same blessing.

I have got well of the mumps. They made me very sick for 2 days. I was not able to get out of the tent. I sent for the doctor. He came and gave me a puke. It made me sick for a little while but I soon got over that and as soon as I got over that the mumps was all right.

They have gone on dress parade. I slipped them this time but if the captain knew I was writing he would have me in dress parade but I am too sharp for him.”

In the same letter Thomas Conley revealed the strained dynamics of his company, with his captain, Ephraim Ellis, and 2nd lieutenant, Ellis Ramsey, frequently at odds with 1st Lieutenant Edwin De Bruin.

“Ramsey is just like he was at home. He is as quarrelsome as ever and a heap more big feeling. The captain is the same way but him and Ramsey has always treated me with respect and I treated them the same way. But DeBruin has not got the living of a cat in hell with them. They quarrel with him all the time. But he is the best fellow that ever lived. He treats me like a father and I treat him like a son. When the war is over, it will be like breaking up families and that is bad to part one another.”

On June 2, 1862, the 33rd Ohio Infantry was in Huntsville, Alabama. Thomas Conley wrote very positively of the war’s current condition to his sister and assured her that they had the rebels on the run.

“The rebels were plenty when we came here but we made them get up and dust. They don’t like the looks of the Yankees and they run so we can’t get to see them—only them that we can outrun and take prisoners.”

In the same letter he also wrote to his brother-in-law, Joel Gabriel, about the war.

“Well Joel, I must write you something about warfare. We are in the sunny clime of the South now. We are at Huntsville, 12 miles from the Tennessee River. We can hear the boats whistle plain here. We have a nice camp. It is in a grove and we have the ground clean. We don’t know how long we will stay here. It is a pretty country here. We get plenty to eat here and think the war will soon be over. The news came here that Jeff Davis was taken prisoner at Richmond and Beauregard with him. I wish the was was over till I get home once more and see all the folks and get to run around some once more, I think in the course of 2 months I will be at home all right again and I can come and see you living in a farm and having plenty of everything good to eat. That is the main thing now-a-days.”

His news about Jefferson Davis and General Beauregard of course proved false.

Thomas Conley’s Thoughts on the War

On May 12, 1863, Thomas Conley was at Murfreesboro, Tennessee. In a letter home to his sister, he revealed how the war had altered his thoughts on slavery. Before the war he considered himself a democrat and was against ending slavery, but he now found himself fighting to end it.

“But now I am in for putting down this rebellion. No man can be in the army now without acting out the abolition principles but they are not my choice but the nature of the case compels me and a good many others to differ in principles. We are not of the same opinion here as we are when we are at home but I am down on the abolition wherever they may be—that is, them at home who are the first to tell everybody to go but they will not go themselves nor their friends if they can help it. This thing of neighbors not being sociable on account of politics is nonsense for they ought to be friendly and go to church together for if they should happen to go to Heaven. they would not be friendly there.

But as for my part, the abolitions will have to mend their ways or they will never see the happy shore. I suppose you know as much about Vallandingham’s case as I do. There is great rejoicing over it here. Well that is about all about politics.”

Thomas Conley Writes About Morgan’s Raid

Photo of Confederate General John Hunt Morgan.
Photo of Confederate General John Hunt Morgan via Wikimedia Commons.

By August, 1863, the 33rd Ohio Infantry was back in Alabama. On August 12, 1863, Thomas Conley wrote from Crow Creek, Alabama, to talk with his sister about Confederate General John Hunt Morgan’s raid into several northern states, including Ohio, and the terror it caused the civilians there. Much of his news about it seems to have come from his mother, Margaret.

“Well Kate, from what mother wrote to me, if Morgan had come back through there again, Joel would’ve been without a wife for he was at mothers nearly crazy hunting you. That is another reason you had for not writing for when we get among the enemy, we cannot write but aim to write before we get in with the enemy.

Well Kate, I suppose you was frightened when you heard Morgan was in the country. I know I would if I had been there but I would liked to been there to seen the fun. But I have seen him once and that is enough for anyone.”

A couple weeks later Thomas Conley wrote again from Crow Creek on August 25, 1863, and talked about receiving corn with his rations and stealing other food from local farmers.

“I had plenty of green corn to eat July here. They issue corn to us like other rations. Six ears a day. Peaches are ripe here and sweet potatoes are large enough to eat. I went about 2 miles last night and stole a bushel of them and while I was digging them the old woman came out and cried out to get out of that patch you damned thieves. You are the raking of God’s earth and all I said was for the old lady, “‘Keep your shirt on.’”

Thomas Conley’s final letter in our collection was written on May 21, 1865 from Alexandria, Virginia. In this letter he hoped to be mustered out soon, but wasn’t sure when veterans like him would be.

“I wish I could see all you and mother more than all. I don’t know whether I will get home soon or not as is reported the Veterans are going to be kept and if they are, I am going to North Carolina with a captain on Gen. Kilpatrick’s staff but it is supposition about the Veterans. Gen. Sherman says he is going to have his army mustered out soon as they get their papers made out. Gen. Sherman’s army is going to be reviewed on the 24th of this month in Washington City. It is going to be one of the grandest things of the war.”

Thomas Conley mustered out on July 12, 1865. He died sometime before 1886. He was buried at Ashridge Cemetery in Ash Ridge, Ohio. His mother, brother James, and sister Ann (Conley) Rhoten were buried at the same cemetery.

We’d like to give a special thanks to William Griffing of Spared & Shared for transcribing and sharing these records.

To read more of Thomas Conley’s letters and access thousands of other Civil War letters and documents, sign up for a Research Arsenal membership.

If you enjoyed this article, check out our other featured collections like Seth Bishop of the 4th Vermont Infantry and Perry Farlow of the 29th Wisconsin Infantry.

 

Research Arsenal Spotlight 81: Seth Bishop 4th Vermont Infantry

Posted on by Gloria Wickman

Seth Bishop was born in 1839 to Chauncey Bishop and Samantha (Stearns) Bishop of Readsboro, Vermont. On April 12, 1862, he enlisted in Company I of the 4th Vermont Infantry.

Seth Bishop in Virginia

Seth Bishop’s parents, Chauncey Bishop and Samantha (Stearns) Bishop.
Seth Bishop’s parents, Chauncey Bishop and Samantha (Stearns) Bishop via Findagrave.com

Seth Bishop wrote the majority of his letters to his brothers and sisters at home. On June 16, 1862 he wrote a letter datelined from “Camp Fort Smith” and said that although his camp was under fire from Confederate artillery, he personally was not afraid because he believed that you only died when your time came so it was useless to worry.

“I hain’t been sick any since that I left home. I can lay right on the ground and sleep as well as I did when I was at home in a feather bed and don’t think anymore about being in danger than I did when I was at home. They throw their shells over in our camp every little while and the boys dodge so but I tell them that there is no use of their dodging for they won’t die till their time comes, so that if it is right for me to die here, I am satisfied & tell them that I don’t believe that ever there was any man ever saved by being afraid for while they are trying to get out of danger, they might get right in danger.”

In the same letter he also wrote about a joking exchange between Union and Confederate pickets about their plans for the 4th of July.

“Saturday eve their pickets were right in [sight] of us. They would talk back and forth to each other. They wanted to know where that we was going to the Fourth of July. I told them that I should call into Richmond and take [ ]. They said come on, they would treat us first rate but I don’t know I shall.”

On November 30, Seth Bishop wrote from Falmouth, Virginia. He talked about the recent meal he’d gotten after a church meeting and compared it to food at home. He hoped the war would end soon but didn’t think it likely.

“I have been to meeting today and have got back and had some baked beans for dinner and they were as good as you can cook at home. But the pies I like and ginger bread & puddings and rich things we don’t have out here but then I understand how to fare pretty well out here, I think, for I have plenty things to eat—rich as they be—but I should like to be there to take supper with you once in awhile. But then I think that I shan’t be this winter for we have got to settle up with the grey coats before we come home and we can’t tell how long it will take to settle for they are rough and tough [ ] to settle with. But I think that they will be glad to settle it before next spring for I think they are getting rather homesick of it by what they say. But I can stand it as long as any of them for when I am here, I shan’t be anywhere else and it agrees with me first rate.”

Winter near White Oak Church, Virginia.

The 4th Vermont Infantry spent early 1863 encamped near White Oak Church, Virginia. Seth Bishop wrote a series of letters from that location beginning with one penned on January 27, 1863, where he voiced his displeasure with politicians and citizens in Washington and hoped they would be sent to fight.

“I wish that them men around Washington were obliged to take their guns & [ ] and go into the field for as hard as [ ]. Then when they go into a fight, I wish that they would see them skirmish & I might like to be the reserve and if they undertook to run I would stop them.”

On February 25, Seth Bishop wrote about the snow in camp, though he seemed to mind it very little.

“We have had some snow here this winter but it don’t stay on long at a time. When it comes, it comes in a hurry. The other night I was out on picket. When I lay down the stars shone bright. But before morning it began to snow and when I waked up the snow were about all over us. So you see that we were very warm that night. Then in the morning we had to make us some coffee and east some hard bread & pork & then I packed up my things & went on post & had a good time.

But I suppose that you will say that you would not want such a bed to stay in. But it is white and nice as you please. I wish that you could have [been here] in the morning to see me & seen what a nice house we have got & nice furniture.”

Even into early spring, the 4th Vermont Infantry remained at White Oak Church. On April 11, 1863, Seth Bishop wrote to his sister about how he spent his day. (Seth Bishop’s handwriting is somewhat difficult to read and so there are a few omitted words.)

“I am well and have some good times but we are drilling every day. I will tell you what we had to do yesterday. In the morning I went on police, then we mustered, then came in to have roll call. Then we had barracks inspection, then went on brigade drill. Then came in & got some supper and then had roll call & then we went over to the ambulance train to [ ], & then had high times, We had plenty of lemon punch and everything went [ ]. Then I came home and found two letters in my tent for me and from home & the others from you so I had to read them before I went to bed.”

The 4th Vermont Infantry in 1863

Photograph of Edwin Stoughton, the original colonel of the 4th Vermont Infantry.
Photograph of Edwin Stoughton, the original colonel of the 4th Vermont Infantry.

After leaving White Oak Church, Seth Bishop wrote his next letter from a camp near Falmouth, Virginia, on May 24, 1863. His duty there seemed relatively light, and he mentioned having a swim in the Potomac River.

“Sunday two o’clock, we have had inspection but I have been down to the Potomac swimming and have got back and hain’t got anything to do [so] I thought I would write a few lines to you although you don’t never write to me.”

On June 18, 1863 Seth Bishop wrote home after the 4th Vermont Infantry underwent some heavy marching.

“I can’t write but a few lines this time for I have been marching lately and I am so tired now. I don’t know where we shall go for the rebels have got into Maryland again and I don’t care only they fix there handful. I want they they should burn up Washington and Baltimore for there is as more secesh there than there is in the South.

I can’t write any more this time for I am played out tired for we hain’t had much chance to stay hardly more rest much for the past all through twenty miles [and] with four days rations and all of our things besides.

I will close by telling you that there [were] forty men dropped down the day before yesterday.”

After the New York Draft Riots in July, 1863, the 4th Vermont Infantry was sent to do duty in New York City and made their camp in Central Park. The proximity to Vermont (relative to his usual distance in Virginia) had Seth Bishop hoping that his brother, Ransom, might be able to come down to visit, as he wrote in a letter dated August 24.

“I received your kind letter some days ago and would have answered it before now but I have been busy the most of the time so you must excuse me for not writing you before. I am well and enjoying life first rate and I hope that these few lines will find you the same. I would like to have you and Ransom come out and see me but I don’t suppose it will be so that you could, but if you can’t I hope that after the draft is completed that I might get a chance to come home on a short furlough.”

By September 5, 1863, Seth Bishop and the 4th Vermont Infantry had returned to Virginia.

“I am tough and hearty and I had a fine time in New York and I would like to have stayed my time out there but we have got orders for the front again. But I don’t care for I think that it will be all right for we hain’t got but eight months longer to serve.”

Seth Bishop reenlisted in the 4th Vermont Infantry on March 28, 1864. On June 3, 1864, he was wounded at the Battle of Cold Harbor. After the war, he returned to Vermont and worked as a farmer until he died at the age of 40 in 1879. He was married twice. First to Susan E. Whitney in 1864 and later to Harriet S. Hicks in 1868.

We’d like to give a special thanks to William Griffing of Spared & Shared for transcribing and sharing these letters.

To read more of Seth Bishop’s letters and access thousands of other Civil War letters and documents, sign up for a Research Arsenal membership.

If you enjoyed this article, check out some of our other featured collections like Perry Farlow of the 29th Wisconsin Infantry and Joseph Patterson of the 90th Pennsylvania Infantry. [https://researcharsenal.com/joseph-patterson-90th-pennsylvania-infantry/]

 

 

 

 

Research Arsenal Spotlight 80: Perry Farlow 29th Wisconsin Infantry

Posted on by Gloria Wickman

Perry Farlow was born in 1842 to Alfred and Anna Marie (Taylor) Farlow of Dodge County, Wisconsin. He enlisted in Company K of the 29th Wisconsin Infantry on August 21, 1862. The regiment was organized at Camp Randall in Madison, Wisconsin, and mustered into United States service on September 27, 1862.

The 29th Wisconsin Infantry at Camp Randall

Engraving of Camp Randall as it looked in 1862.
Engraving of Camp Randall as it looked in 1862 via National Park Service Gallery.

Perry Farlow began his letters while the 29th Wisconsin Infantry was still organizing at Camp Randall. Before leaving for the south, he was eager for his loved ones to visit and see him off. On September 4, 1862, he wrote a very short note to his mother asking her to let him know if she was coming.

“I wish you would make me a small party next Saturday as the Captain will not let us off any other night except Saturday and if you will ask the boys to come, let me know how many to ask and send back word by Robert McCracken and oblige your much loved son.”

On October 14, 1862, the 29th Wisconsin Infantry was still at Camp Randall and Perry Farlow again asked his family to come.

“I got through all right and drawed my overcoat and pants after I got here and am going to draw our undercoats and knapsacks tomorrow. Our guns will be here in a few days. And if you want to see us before we go, you will have to come down here right off for we will not stay here more than a week, if we do that. Our cooks had orders last night to cook three days rations so to be ready to start but I don’t think we will go inside of a week. But the Colonel said we would not stay here more than ten days more, if we do that. And I wish you would come out here and tell the folks round there to come for I have not got time to write to all of them.”

Perry Farlow in Arkansas

1865 Photo showing the Tappan House in Helena, Arkansas which was used by officers of the Union army.
1865 Photo showing the Tappan House in Helena, Arkansas which was used by officers of the Union army via Wikimedia Commons.

When Perry Farlow next wrote home to his parents, it was from Arkansas. On November 9, 1862 he detailed the regiment’s travel south.

“It is Sunday once more but if I had not heard someone say [it], I would not know from the way things go round here. We do not have any Sundays here in camp, It is an awful wicked place for a man if he does not look out for himself. I will not tell you the whole story from Camp Randall here for I wrote the whole thing in Frank’s letter and told him to let you read it and so I begin where I left off in his letter for I have got a good deal of writing to do and I want to do it today.

As I said, we got here in the morning just at sunrise. It was a nice day and we had nice weather all the way down here. We landed in Helena, Arkansas, but there was a good many men on that side of the river and the Colonel thought it would be better to cross where there was not any and so we are on the opposite side from Helena and all alone. But we expect two or three more regiments in a few days. We did not get off the boat till most noon that day and then we went to work and cleared off the camp ground and a little before sundown. We got our tents and set them up and was ready for sleep for the first time in Rebeldom for we did not sleep much on the boat for it was so cold we could not.

Talk about going south to a warmer climate—it is a little warmer in the daytime but it is not any warmer at night. But the first night I was here I slept pretty good and in the morning I found out that I had to go out as Corporal of the Picket Guard and had to go up the river three miles. There was 29 out six of the companies that had to go up there so we had quite a little army with us. We went up in a boat. Our company was the first to come on [duty]. We went on from eight till ten and then we did not have to go on again till 8 o’clock at night.”

In November, part of the 29th Wisconsin Infantry was sent on an expedition up the White River but Perry Farlow was selected to stay behind, as he wrote in a letter dated November 20, 1862.

“There has 400 out of our regiment gone from here. I don’t know where they have gone to. Kib went with them. The Captain would not let me go but maybe it is just as well for I think the boys will smell powder before they get back. There was 8 thousand went from the other side of the river. They left last Saturday night about five o’clock. They went down the river.”

In the same letter he detailed what had occurred on a recent picket duty.

“I have not been sick a day since I enlisted and I never felt better in my life than I do now. We have pretty hard times standing picket since the boys went away. The last time I was on picket, I took one guerrilla and fetched him into camp and yesterday there was two came in under a flag of truce. Their business was to go across the river to exchange prisoners.”

On November 23, Perry Farlow wrote about the results of the expedition when the regiment returned.

“The boys that went out on that expedition have got back. They went down to White River and the river was so low they could not go up. They was calculating to go up White River to Little Rock but they could not and so they had to come back. They said they was not off of the boat but two hours while they was gone. They was just a week. It made a good many of them sick. Mr. Perry has been sick most all the while since he was gone but he has got some better since he came back and there was two others out of our company that had to be carried from the boat to the hospital on a bed. There is three out of our company in the hospital and a few more that is not very well. But if the boys had stayed down there another week, there would have been some of them that would never come back and a good many of them sick.”

Sickness in the 29th Wisconsin Infantry

Perry Farlow’s comments about the many men sickened during the expedition hinted at more trouble to come, though at the time Perry Farlow didn’t understand the gravity of it. On November 30, 1862, he wrote home about Thanksgiving celebrations at the camp and mentioned the camp’s source of water.

“I suppose you had great times up there last Thursday Thanksgiving and talked a great deal about us and wished we had some of your victuals to eat but we did not think so for we have plenty to eat and good river water to drink. It is a little muddy but that is nothing as long as it tastes good. It is better than the spring or well water is down here. We have beans and rice every day and sometimes potatoes and plenty of hard crackers. We are going to have flour so we can make bread and pancakes now. We have eat all together till day before yesterday when we divided up in squads of twenty-four each which I like much better.”

Contaminated water was a major source of illness throughout the war it is likely the river water Perry Farlow described as “a little muddy” was also more than a little unhealthy.

On December 9, 1862, Perry Farlow wrote home and listed some of the men in his company who had gotten very sick.

“There is several of our boys that are unwell and some that are very sick. B[enjamin L.] Hales, Mr. [Sumner G.] Sanders, Simon [A.] Terwilliger, [and] J[ames] P. Tripp is in the hospital and [Samuel] James Hodge is in there too. There was one of our boys died tonight a little after four o’clock. He was well and up round last Friday and Sunday night he went to the hospital and tonight he died. His heart was affected. His name is John Nash. You can see that record. He is as good a boy as there is in the camp. Mr. [William V.] Perry is very sick. I don’t know what ails him. Alvin [W.] Hamilton has got the measles. He was taken with them last Sunday.”

Not long after, Perry Farlow himself became sick with typhoid, a disease that spreads through contaminated food or water. On January 30, 1863, Perry was too sick to write a letter himself, so Sergeant Kilburn Clifford wrote to his family for him instead.

“Mr. Farlow, Sir,

It is with regret that I seat myself this morning to write you a few lines for Perry. He don’t get no better as I can see. He wanted that I should write to you for he was not able and let you know all about it. I tell you, sir, it is a hard place to be sick in. Even the sick that are in the hospital have to lay on the ground—only one blanket under them for three or four days after we have been moving. One thing certain, the more medicine one takes from our doctors, the worse they are off. I don’t know [what] the trouble is with Perry but I should think that he has got a fever of some kind.”

Less than a week later, on February 5, 1863, Perry Farlow died. In all, the 29th Wisconsin Infantry lost 3 officers and 242 enlisted men to disease during the war.

We’d like to give a special thanks to William Griffing of Spared & Shared for his work in transcribing and sharing these letters.

To read more of Perry Farlow’s letters and access thousands of other Civil War letters and documents, sign up for a Research Arsenal membership.

If you enjoyed this article, check out some of our other featured collections like Joseph Patterson of the 90th Pennsylvania Infantry and Mahlon Thatcher of the 40th Massachusetts Infantry.

 

 

 

 

Research Arsenal Spotlight 79: Joseph Patterson 90th Pennsylvania Infantry

Posted on by Gloria Wickman

Joseph Patterson was born in December, 1847 to Robert Patterson and Elizabeth (Gilles) Patterson. He was not yet 14 years old when he enlisted as a drummer in Company I, 90th Pennsylvania Infantry on September 24, 1861. His extreme youth offers a unique perspective on the war and military life.

Joseph Patterson at Fredericksburg

The letters in our collection begin in May, 1862, when Joseph Patterson and the 90th Pennsylvania Infantry were stationed near Fredericksburg, Virginia. Joseph Patterson started his letter with an admonishment to his parents for sending him things by way of a lieutenant without telling him the lieutenant’s name or regiment.

“But you say you sent a pair of gaiters by a lieutenant. I have not seen lieutenant, letter or gaiters yet. I don’t think I will ever see them. I think it is dumb in you sending them by him. You did not tell me who he is nor where to go look for him nor what regiment he is in.”

Joseph Patterson mentioned that he met with another cousin, Bill, also serving in the Union Army.

“I seen cousin Bill a couple a days ago and you would not know [him]—he looked as old as Uncle did when he was out there. I did not know him. He says he could make more home now that where he is. Aunt died last fall or spring, I don’t know which, and he could live better now than that time. He is well now and sends his love and respects to you. He is going to Philadelphia if they get discharged in Harrisburg.”

Towards the end of the letter, Joseph Patterson revealed that he had evidently caused some trouble at home before enlisting in the army.

“Now Father, if I don’t never return home, one out of family is not any loss. I was always a bad boy [at] home, but I have changed now. I look and feel more of a man now. I am able to take care of myself [even] if I don’t have anybody to take care of me.”

He also implored his parents not to believe any rumors about him and swore he would never desert the regiment.

“What is the matter with you? Is somebody been telling you more lies about me. Don’t believe anything anybody tells you. There will be a day some time that everything will be right. What do you mean by a business hand. Won’t you know it is from me? I will put my 3 initials on the envelope. Then you will know it is from me before you open it. If you look at the papers to find me deserting the regiment, you will look forever for that is a thing I will never do—no never.”

The 90th Pennsylvania Infantry in Virginia

Portrait of Confederate General Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson.
Portrait of Confederate General Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson.

On June 3, 1862, Joseph Patterson wrote home with an account of what the 90th Pennsylvania Infantry had been up to since leaving Fredericksburg. The regiment was in pursuit of “Stonewall” Jackson and much of Joseph Patterson’s account had to do with the conduct of General James Shields who commanded the 2nd Division of the 5th Corps.

“I have been on the tramp all of this week and last week. We left Fredericksburg Sunday week and marched to Aquia Creek which is about 20 miles and then took the boat for Alexandria and then got off the boat and took the cars for Manassas. We laid at Manassas about a day and then went on the march again. We left Manassas about 5 o’clock and stopped about 7 miles from there and took up the tramp again in the morning. We kept on doing that for 5 days. It has been raining half of the time. We have been after Jackson, Johnson, [and] Ewell ever since we left Manassas. You know that time I told you Shields left Winchester, he was put under arrest for marching away from it. Just as soon as he left it, Jackson marched into and captured all he could lay his hands on. He got a great deal of provisions from what he captured. Shields left Fredericksburg in the morning and our brigade left in the afternoon.

Yesterday Shields was fighting. I could hear the cannonading as plain as if I was up at the spot. Yesterday they fetched in a lieutenant. He was shot in the arm while out on picket. Mother and Father, you need not fret. I don’t have to go on picket now. We expect to have a fight with them pretty soon. They are pretty well armed. Their best cavalry is not far from us. It is Ashby’s Cavalry. I’ve see the Colonel’s house that commanded the cavalry. When we got in Front Royal, the depot was just burning. You know how near we are to them. It is a funny thing that we can’t catch him.

They are General Banks, Fremont, Shields and McDowell after him. I hear he is beginning to smell a mouse. He thinks we got him surrounded. I think it is so. He will have to fight his way through. He wants to get going. If we only get them, we can go right on to Richmond. There are no armies between this and Richmond. Jackson is the one we want to get. He is the commander of the guerrillas. They call themselves the Mountain Tigers. They are on horses. They show no mercy. They shoot you right down. But if we had him, we would show him what he’s about.”

On June 22, 1862, Joseph Patterson wrote from Front Royal, Virginia, and informed his family about the recent accident of General Irvin McDowell.

“I suppose you heard of Gen. McDowell getting hurt. We just came here as he fell off of his horse. He did not fall off the horse, the horse reared up and he thought he would come down on his feet again but the horse fell over backward on top of the General.  He made a narrow escape. The doctor did not think he would live but he is recovering. He is the one that is keeping Gen. McClellan from attacking Richmond. He won’t attack it till he finds McDowell is well fixed in Western Virginia but I think we will go down in reinforce McClellan. The Major General of our division is resigned and is now serving under Gen. Halleck out west. Our Brigadier General is Major General but I don’t know who will be Brigade General.”

In November, 1862, Joseph Patterson wrote a short letter to his brother that gave a hint at some of his dissatisfaction with his current military life.

“You talk about me learning you to play the drum if ever I get home safe. I never want to hear the sound of a drum. I am so tired hearing the drums now that I hate them. They are so unhandy to carry in a march—that is the reason I hate them—and it is hard to keep a drum in order, to keep it out of the rain. Such little tents we get, not like home, keeping a drum where you got a parlor to keep it.”

Joseph Patterson Goes AWOL

1862 Photograph of Union troops at Federal Hill overlooking Baltimore, Maryland. Joseph Patterson went to Baltimore and turned himself in after going AWOL from his regiment in 1863. Photo via Mount Clare Museum.
1862 Photograph of Union troops at Federal Hill overlooking Baltimore, Maryland. Joseph Patterson went to Baltimore and turned himself in after going AWOL from his regiment in 1863. Photo via Mount Clare Museum.

There is a gap in our collection of letters spanning the beginning half of 1863. When the letters resumed on July 22, 1863, Joseph Patterson revealed that he has currently left his regiment without leave and turned himself in to the Provost Marshal of Baltimore.

“I now sit down to write a few lines to you to let you know that I am well & enjoying good health at present & I hope you are the same. I left the regiment just as they were crossing the river to go in Virginia at Berlin. I jumped on a train of cars and came down here to Baltimore to run around town a couple of days & reported to Provost Marshal of Baltimore for transportation to the regiment again and he sent me to this camp to wait here till they send me. I left the regiment without permission and I feel a little uneasy about it & I would like to get to the regiment or else come home & wait till the army gets settled in camp. I did not feel like walking around Virginia so I did not go.

Now if you like and [want to] come down & fetch [me] a suit of [civilian] clothes, I will come up and stay home till the army gets settled, or if you don’t like it, I will stay here and wait till they send me to the regiment. But it will be a long time I think. I don’t like it in this camp and I would rather be anywhere than here. I am very sorry I ever left the regiment at all but I don’t know what ever made me come to Baltimore.

I am out of money and I hear that the Army of the Potomac is getting paid off so I think I won’t get any money this pay day and likely they will take 2 months pay off for leaving the regiment without permission. When you answer this, please send me a couple of dollars if you don’t come yourself.”

By August 13, 1863, Joseph Patterson had rejoined the 90th Pennsylvania Infantry at Rappahannock Station. In his letter home he described his disdain for the new recruits and joked about the time he and his mother had spent together in Baltimore.

“We have received 150 new substitutes tonight and a worse set than before. One died coming along on the boat and the one that was shot in the Delaware belonged to them too, so they say, but I don’t believe them. The bearer of this letter is Sergeant Hagerty. He told me he would take $20 to you so I thought I would send it being you done so much for me on that little excursion of ours. I’ll bet you I won’t forget the leaky car that night. Do you remember the sarsaparilla in Baltimore? I could drink a good glass now if I had it. I wonder what the Colonel of the Camp Bradford said when I did not return in the morning. I guess he thinks I am making a long night of it in Baltimore. If he only knowed what was in the valise that day.

How would you like to have another walk like that night?”

Joseph Patterson continued to serve in the 90th Pennsylvania Infantry until he completed his 3 year term in September 1864. He applied for a disability pension in 1865 for chronic diarrhea but was denied. He went to work in his father’s company as a shipping merchant in Philadelphia. Joseph Patterson died in 1901.

We’d like to give a special thanks to William Griffing of Spared & Shared for his work in transcribing and sharing these letters.

To read more of Joseph Patterson’s letters and access thousands of other Civil War letters and documents, sign up for a Research Arsenal membership.

If you enjoyed this article, check out some of our other featured collections like Mahlon Thatcher of the 40th Massachusetts Infantry and William Augur of the 7th Connecticut Infantry.

Research Arsenal Spotlight 78: Mahlon Thatcher 40th Massachusetts Infantry

Posted on by Gloria Wickman

Mahlon Thatcher was born in 1821 to John and Charlotte Thatcher of Hunterdon County, New Jersey. He later moved to Boston and worked as a salesman. In 1850 he married Julia Wallace and the couple had three children together before Mahlon enlisted in the Union army on June 26, 1862.

Mahlon Thatcher joins the 40th Massachusetts Infantry

Camp of the 40th Massachusetts Infantry at Miner’s Hill, Virginia in 1862. Mahlon Thatcher later described the regiment's time at Miner's Hill as a happy one.
Camp of the 40th Massachusetts Infantry at Miner’s Hill, Virginia in 1862. Mahlon Thatcher later described the regiment’s time at Miner’s Hill as a happy one.

Though Mahlon Thatcher enlisted in late June, 1862, his path to the 40th Massachusetts Infantry was a complicated one. He first enlisted in the 32nd Massachusetts Infantry, was then transferred to the 35th Massachusetts, and then when the captain of his company in the 35th Massachusetts failed to get a commission, he was transferred again to Company B of the 40th Massachusetts Infantry. Fearing that the many transfers might lead to trouble with receiving his pay if something happened to him, Mahlon detailed the sequence in a letter to his wife written around September, 1862.

“Dear Julia, I wrote this to you so if it should be my sad fate to fall in the coming battles, you might know how much was coming to you from the government. I suppose you know that I enlisted and was mustered into the service of the United States on the twenty-sixth day of June, One thousand eight hundred and sixty-two by Captain John M. M. Goodhue, then the mustering-in officer of Boston. I enlisted for the Thirty-second regiment under Lieutenant Nat Wales who was afterwards promoted to Adjutant of the Thirty-fifth Regiment. So if there should be any trouble of getting my money, you can show them this letter. I was transferred to the Thirty-fifth Regiment by the order of Colonel H. Day, the military commandant of Massachusetts and the captain that I was transferred to did not get his commission. I was transferred to the Fortieth under Captain D[aniel] H. Johnson’s Company B.”

In November, 1862, the 40th Massachusetts Infantry was stationed at Miner’s Hill, Virginia, though there were many rumors that they would soon be sent elsewhere. In a letter written November 14, 1862, Mahlon Thatcher revealed his frustration at the politicians in the country and the persistent unfounded rumors.

“But I suppose that by this [time] you have heard that this regiment is going to Texas, but I do not believe it. If you but knew how much we believe or care for the stories that is flying round the camp, you would not be surprised at anything. And as for the movements of the army, we do not care one snap for, for I think that if they that is the men at the head of the government was to go to pandemonium—the council chamber of hell for dictators—they could not get any more damnable spirits of contention between the politicians and the speculators. The country is getting ruined as fast as it is possible for it to do, but I hope the time may come when the country may get right side up and this accursed war may be brought to a close. But Heaven only knows when that may be. Staying out here and moving one day one way and then another day back again has a great effect on the rebels we all think, but that seems to be all that we have all to do now-a-days; that and picketing, drilling, and guarding the camp seems to be the amount total of the good we are doing out here.”

As expected, the 40th Massachusetts Infantry did not go to Texas and remained in Virginia into the summer of 1863. On June 20, 1863 Mahlon Thatcher wrote about the difficult conditions in facing bushwhackers along the road to Richmond.

“As I wrote that we expected to march at any moment, in about an hour after mailing the letter to you the order came to get ready for a march with three days rations and by six o’clock in the afternoon we started. We marched for three hours and then halted for the night. In the morning we started on for a few hundred yards then commenced to throw out pickets and sentries on the road until the whole regiment was doing picket duties on the direct road to Richmond and forces lined the whole road for almost twenty miles in length doing picket duty and watching for bushwhackers and guerrillas and we take some almost every night, not without some cost to ourselves for there is seldom a day passes but some of our men is shot at their post and it is the worst of duties for you cannot see the enemy for they skulk in the bushes and lay still until they get a chance to fire on us in the place that our company is. The road runs right through the woods and it is very dark in the night. We have to guard the road so as to keep it open so our transportation can be kept up when our forces moves on as they say that there is a large force coming through this place for Richmond.”

Mahlan Thatcher in South Carolina

The 40th Massachusetts Infantry was sent to Folly Island, South Carolina in August, 1863. Around that time Mahlon Thatcher became seriously ill with bowel inflammation and was sent to the hospital. Others in the regiment were also sick, and the morale of the regiment was low. On September 20, 1863, he wrote:

“Dear Family, to see the camp of our regiment now, you would think instead of our being the same regiment that was at Miners Hill last winter all full of fun, that we was some body of men now to mourn over the fate of the country as after supper in the evening there is no singing or any fun at all. The men feels that they are all worn out—at least so it seems to me. I must stop now for this time as I am very tired and I must lie down.”

Later in the letter he added more about the condition of the regiment.

“Last evening at about eight o’clock there was another soldier died in our hospital. They are dropping off very fast and if they do not remove this division from this island, I think there may be many more soon go the same road from which no traveler ever returns. The whole truth of the fact is that this division was all worn out before it come to this place. It made all those that was able to do duty sick themselves and now the camps of the whole division looks more like a hospital than the defenders of their country. But so it is and we have to submit and I hope for my part that I will always try to bear the burthen without murmuring at the dispensation of Heaven or finding fault with the Rulers of our Country. May they always rule with wisdom and the fear of the Almighty God in their hearts.”

In early 1864, the 40th Massachusetts Infantry moved down to Jacksonville, Florida, and fought at the Battle of Olustee. Mahlon Thatcher detailed the fighting in a letter  home and revealed that he was promoted to corporal for his good conduct during the fighting.

“My health is first rate and spirits is good although we have been in four fights since we arrived in the State of Florida. Three of them we was victorious and the last was a drawing battle—or in other words, we got the worst of the fight as we had to have all of our dead unburied.

The fight commenced at about two o’clock in the afternoon and lasted until dark, Then we fell back though in good order. Our side lost 1500 in killed and wounded and missing. Our loss was very severe for we had not over four thousand men with us and some of them was black soldiers. But the enemy had fifteen thousand men and we held them [in] check some five hours. O, I hope never to see so hard a fight for us. Out of a fight that I was in of four men, two was shot and the sergeant’s horse was shot under him right at my side so I may say that within five feet of my place in the ranks, two men and three horses was shot down. And through the divine mercy of Providence, I escaped unhurt and it was not for any safer place or any skedaddling, for I have just been promoted for my good conduct on the field of battle.”

Return to Virginia

Illustration of the Battle of Cold Harbor based on a sketch by Edwin Forbes.
Illustration of the Battle of Cold Harbor based on a sketch by Edwin Forbes via Wikimedia Commons.

In spring 1864, the 40th Massachusetts returned to Virginia. On May 7, 1864, Mahlon Thatcher wrote from outside of Petersburg.

“We have been to West Point since I wrote my last to you but now we are here way up the James River on the Petersburg side and almost twenty miles from Richmond with quite a force and I do not know the moment the order may come to go into battle as the enemy is close to us and some think that they have left Petersburg but I don’t believe it as that place is said to be very strongly fortified and I think that they will make a stand there and we will have to whip them out of the place before they will leave. But they must give way this time as we are bound to drive all before us this time and Richmond must come down. If Jeff Davis gets out of this, he will have to run for it, I think. The heavy guns is making a great noise in our front as I am writing and the rattle of small arms is very plain and that a great battle may be very soon.”

On May 18, 1864, Mahlon Thatcher wrote another letter, this time after surviving a serious battle.

“Thank the Almighty God and the blessed and his Holy Mother, I am still able to write to you and I have not been hurt in the least but how I was brought safe, God only knows for the shot rained very thick and we have for eight days & nights the dreadful fire has been kept up and our little regiment has done its duty manfully all the time. God bless her. Yesterday was the worst of any time and our loss was very severe but still we meet them as only brave men can and for some time our small regiment held the whole center of the line at defiance and we was praised by both of the corps and department generals in command and they say when this regiment has to fall back, it will be when they are ordered or that they are all dead.

Dear family, I cannot write much as I am very much worn out by exposure and fatigue.”

Sadly, Mahlon Thatcher’s good fortune didn’t last. On June 5, 1864 he wrote from White House Landing and revealed that he had been seriously wounded at the Battle of Cold Harbor.

“Through the blessing of the Almighty God and his blessed Mother, I still am amongst the living but I am very severely wounded. The ball hit me in my breast and passed through my body and out my back making a hole right through me but I am a good deal better than anyone could suppose me to be. I was wounded at Gaines Hill [Mill] or Coal [Cold] Harbor—I do not know which it is called—on Wednesday night about 7 o’clock. I do not know where I will be sent to but I hope it may be to Boston sometime soon.

Dear family, you may think that I am dangerously wounded but I hope that the danger is over now and I may get well again as soon as possible. You must keep up good courage and all will be for the best. Our men fell very fast as we charged right in the face of the rebel rifle pits and the fire was dreadful. I fell on the second charge that we made, facing the enemy as I always said I would if I was hit at all. I can’t write no more now.”

Mahlon Thatcher was later moved to Knights Hospital in New Haven, Connecticut, where he penned a letter on June 29, 1864.

“I now address a few lines to you to let you know how I am getting along. My wound is about the same as when I last wrote but the diarrhea is not any better. I am troubled bad with it but I am in hopes that in a few days it will be better so that I can get a furlough and go home. But it will be some few days before I shall be strong enough to travel. I do not sit up now but hope to be so as to sit up in a few days. You had better not come to see me—not by any means. I will write again in a few days.”

Mahlon Thatcher died of his wounds at Knight Hospital on July 14, 1864. His wife, Julia lived until 1894 and never remarried.

We’d like to give a special thanks to William Griffing of Spared & Shared for his work in transcribing and sharing these letters.

To read more of Mahlon Thatcher’s letters as well as access thousands of other Civil War letters and documents, sign up for a Research Arsenal membership.

If you enjoyed this article, check out some of our other featured collections like William Augur of the 7th Connecticut Infantry and Martin Culver of the 16th Connecticut Infantry.

 

 

Research Arsenal Spotlight 77: William Augur 7th Connecticut Infantry

Posted on by Gloria Wickman

William Augur was born in 1836 to Horace and Catharine (Hanson) Augur of New Haven County, Connecticut. Before the war he worked as an architect in New Haven. He enlisted in Company C of the 7th Connecticut Infantry in September, 1861. Most of his letters in this collection were addressed to his sweetheart, Addie C. Phelps.

The 7th Connecticut Infantry in South Carolina

Front and Back of CDV of William Augur of the 7th Connecticut Infantry. The back contains the inscription, “To A.”
Front and Back of CDV of William Augur of the 7th Connecticut Infantry. The back contains the inscription, “To A.”

William Augur’s first letter in this collection was written June 10, 1862 from James Island, South Carolina. The letter is actually a series of diary-like entries recounting his activities each day from June 3 through June 10. He recounted a minor skirmish he was in on June 7.

“Saturday [June 7th]—I have got so used to this life that I slept all night in spite of a shower we had and feeling first rate today although it is raining. About four P. M., our regiment with a company of cavalry started off after the enemy and such a road we traveled I never saw before—mud ankle deep or more and very slippery and obliged to walk in single file part of the way. We drove in their pickets and had a little skirmish with a part of their force. About four thousand being just ahead of us. After we found out their position, we fell back (only one of our men wounded) and reached camp about ten in a drenching rain, built fires, dried ourselves what little we could and lay down to sleep. How delightful.”

His entry  for June 8, described more fighting, this time involving the 46th New York Infantry.

“Sunday [June 8th]—Cloudy this morn but no rain yet. The 46th New York and some other regiments have gone out skirmishing. Commenced raining again before noon. Firing on our left where we went yesterday. Gun Boats throwing shells into the woods. Our regiment & others formed in line ready to march. One corporal and three men of the secesh picket brought in prisoners. Six of our companies have gone out on picket. Firing ceased. 46th [New York] returned with two killed and ten wounded. They went where we did yesterday. Our tents have arrived and we have put them up. They seem a luxury after being out in the rain so long. How little things seemed like the Sabbath. I hope we shall not be obliged to spend many more in such a way.”

William Augur on Recruitment Duty

When William Augur wrote to Addie on January 22, 1863, his letter was datelined not from the south but from New Haven, Connecticut. He was in Connecticut on recruiting duty, but had the good fortune to see many of the men from 7th Connecticut Infantry who were on furlough after reenlisting, something William Augur declined to do.

“Wednesday I came down here as the 7th [Connecticut Vols.] were expected home. They arrived here about three and had a grand reception. About three hundred and fifty have reenlisted and they are all looking finely. Forty-four of my company are here, and I am afraid I shall be quite lonesome down south until they return for they comprise the best part of the company—those left behind being mostly recruits.

If I had been with them and had not loved Addie, I should have reenlisted; as it is, I am afraid I should have been strongly tempted. You need however have no fears now of my reenlisting, for I do not think my health would allow me to if I wished.”

On February 10, 1863, William Augur wrote to Addie that he expected to stay in Connecticut at least a couple months longer.

“I have not yet heard anything further in regard to returning to the Sunny South and it now looks as though we might stay here two or three months longer, but you must be prepared to hear of my departure anytime. I think of going to New Haven next Saturday and return Monday, if my work will allow me to. If I go, I shall miss seeing you very much. I wish you lived near enough so I could come and spend the Sabbaths with you, and I think I should then be very contented with my position here. Have patience, William. God is good.”

Recruitment duty proved to require a great deal of work for William Augur, and a month later on March 5, 1863, he wrote about some of his recent duties.

“I finished the muster and pay rolls and sent them off last night so that is one good job done. Muster day does not come only one in two months; that is some consolation. Since then I have been busy preparing for Gen. Wool’s reception and this afternoon we all had to turn out with knapsacks and all the other articles necessary to torment a poor soldier, and go through with a review and drill of about three hours. It is six months within a few days since I have carried a knapsack, gun, &c. and just at present I feel lame, tired, and wish various wishes, among the rest that I was my own master once more. My hand trembles so from the effects of carrying that old, twenty-pound gun (I should judge) that I can hardly write. I hope the General will not make us another call while I am here.

Eighteen months of the term of my enlistment expires tonight, so I have something to rejoice over, having arrived at the half way house, and I feel about the same as I did the first day I marched with a knapsack on. I wonder where another eighteen months will find me. I hope in a pleasant home with you my love. God is good and doth all things well.”

William Augur stayed in touch with members of his regiment and in April he shared news that he received from Sergeant Edwin J. Merriam of his company.

“I see by the papers that the attack on Charleston has commenced and I hope it will be successful this time. The land forces have taken the same road we did. I received a letter from Sgt. Merriam last night and it says they are enjoying themselves nicely, having good quarters, plenty to eat, &c. They have an opportunity to enjoy a sail occasionally and I guess they enjoy themselves well enough without me. Don’t you think so?”

At this time the 7th Connecticut Infantry was part of the 10th Corps fighting in the Department of the South.

Despite thinking in the spring that his time on recruitment duty would only last a few more months, William Augur was still working for the recruiting service in December, 1863. By this time he only had nine months left of his three-year term and the time remaining as well as the end of year had him reflecting on his duty and choices.

“For my country I am willing to give up all, and I despise anyone who is not willing to do their share of our country’s work. I should have always been ashamed of myself if I had not obeyed my country’s call, and I know you too well to think you do not love me now for it. Nine more months seem long to wait but how short that would seem to those who have parted with loved ones as dear, and are waiting for a reunion that will not come this side of the grave. Forgive me, dearest, if I have said aught to give you pain.”

William Augur at Olustee

Photo of Addie C. (Phelps) Augur. She and William Augur married one month after the expiration of his term of service.
Photo of Addie C. (Phelps) Augur. She and William Augur married one month after the expiration of his term of service.

In early 1864, William Augur finally left recruiting duty and returned to his regiment. On February 23, 1864 he wrote a brief letter to his father informing him that he had been involved in the recent Battle of Olustee but was unharmed.

“I arrived at the Head [Hilton Head, S. C.] on the 4th and on the 5th we started on an expedition to Florida, landed on the 8th, and since then have been on the move, having marched almost two hundred miles.

We marched about thirty-five miles and fought a four hours long battle [Battle of Olustee] in twenty hours. I came out all safe, although our regiment lost heavily. We are now just out of Jacksonville, but expect to move soon so I have no time to write at present but will as soon as we get a little settled.”

On April 3, 1864, William Augur again wrote to his parents, this time from Jacksonville, Florida. He described Confederate use of “torpedoes” to destroy Union ships.

“About two weeks ago our men picked up two torpedoes down the river which the rebels placed there with the best of wishes for their success probably, but were disappointed. Friday morning, however, they had better success and exploded one under one of our transports (about twelve miles above here) which injured her so badly that she sank in about five minutes, and took down four men with her. The next day three companies of the 7th [Connecticut Vols.] were detailed for boat service on the river, and are now patrolling it to see that another such incident does not occur.

Yesterday they sent in several deserters which they picked up and today they sent in ten more. Hardly a day passes with out some coming in, and a sorry-looking set they are as each one dresses as he best can, and their clothes are of a dirty color when now, so you can imagine how they would look when almost worn out. Hardly any two of them have on hats alike, and most of them look as though they required something to lean against to keep them from falling.”

In the same letter he also included a general order sent out by Brigadier General Truman Seymour praising the conduct of Union forces during the Battle of Olustee.

“The Brigadier-General Commanding recurs with great satisfaction to the conduct of his troops in their late battle, and desires to convey to them in the most public manner, his full appreciation of their steadfast courage on that well contested field.

Against superior numbers, holding a position chosen by themselves, you were all but successful. For four hours you stood face to face with the enemy and when the battle ended—and it ceased only with night—you sent him cheers of defiance.

In your repulse there was perhaps misfortune, but neither disaster nor disgrace; and every officer and soldier may forever remember with just pride that he fought at Olustee.”

William Augur mustered out of the 7th Connecticut Infantry at the expiration of his term in September 1864. Just one month after his discharge he married his sweetheart, Addie C. Phelps. He died in 1903.

We’d like to give a special thanks to William Griffing of Spared & Shared for his work in transcribing and sharing these letters.

To read more of William Augur’s letters and access thousands of other Civil War letters and documents, sign up for a Research Arsenal membership.

If you enjoyed this article, check out some of our other featured collections like Martin Culver of the 16th Connecticut Infantry and Joseph Philp of the 161st New York Infantry.

 

 

 

Research Arsenal Spotlight 76: Martin Culver 16th Connecticut Infantry

Posted on by Gloria Wickman

Martin Culver was born in 1833 to Martin Culver and Lucy P. (Bailey) Culver of Portland, Connecticut. He enlisted in company A of the 16th Connecticut Infantry in 1862. The letters in the Research Arsenal collection were all written to his sister, Harriet “Hattie” Culver.

Martin Culver in 1862

Monument to the 16th Connecticut Infantry at Antietam via Stonesentinels.com
Monument to the 16th Connecticut Infantry at Antietam via Stonesentinels.com

Martin Culver’s letters begin on September 10, 1862, when the 16th Connecticut Infantry was at Pleasant Valley, Maryland. Humorously, he found himself greatly annoyed at the large number of bands around him. Regimental bands had been ordered to disband by General McClellan on August 9, 1862, but evidently still remained active a month later when Martin Culver wrote his letter.

“I should like to be out of the hearing of music for one day and see if I could not hear myself think. We have got about 50 bands of different kinds all around us and they are a thrashing all the time. But that is not all. There has been heavy firing on our right center all this forenoon in the direction of Harper’s Ferry. I have not found out what forces have been engaged but I think it is part of Maeclenans [McClellan’s]. We are very strong here. We don’t know as we have got to move at present. I think that we shall not stay here much longer in this place but we may. You can’t find out anything here.”

Only a few days after this letter was written, the 16th Connecticut Infantry fought at the Battle of Antietam (Sharpsburg) where they faced devastating losses with nearly a quarter of the men killed or wounded. Martin Culver alluded to the many casualties of the battle in an undated letter believed to have been written sometime in early October, 1862, citing the many recent promotions in the regiment, including their Colonel, Frank Beach, acting as brigadier general.

“We are in Burnside’s 9th Army Corps under Brig. General [Isaac P.] Rodman. He was wounded in the Battle of Sharpsburg and our Colonel [Frank] Beach takes his place for awhile. There has been a good many promotions in the regiment since the battle and there is to be some more. There is no news to write here now as I know of.”

The 16th Connecticut Infantry moved to Fredericksburg, Virginia, and on November 27, 1862, Martin Culver wrote his sister about how he spent his first Thanksgiving in the army.

“Being that this is Thanksgiving and that I was on guard last night rather I don’t have much to do today, I thought that I would write you a few lines to let you know that I am well. I have got most over my cold and if I can keep from getting more, I shall get along.”

Later in the letter, he gave a brief description of their rather lackluster Thanksgiving Day meal.

“For our Thanksgiving out her we have got for supper some salt horse and hard tack and coffee but we have not got anything to make it sweet with so that will have to be our supper for this time. But I hope that this the last one that I shall see out here.”

The 16th Connecticut Infantry in Virginia

The 16th Connecticut Infantry fought at the Battle of Fredericksburg and was still stationed in the vicinity into January, 1863. While making no reference to the fighting the previous month, Martin Culver assured Hattie that he was well and only wished for some tobacco to block out the smell when cleaning the camp.

“We have lived very well now for a few days for there was a man from Hartford that brought on boxes and the boys that I tent with had 2. We had chicken pie and roast beef. The Express company brings them through now. We have got a very good tent in dry weather but it rains almost as much as if we had no tent. It rains here today. It rained here all night last night. I had to get up and put our rubber blankets on to keep from floating off. We have got a fire place and chimney so we keep warm. It is not very cold here. The wind is blowing hard from the south.

The 8th got paid off yesterday. They say that we shall get another 2 months pay Saturday. If we do, I shall send some home and I want you to write and let me know as soon as you get it. I wrote to Jon to see if the Express would take a box and if they would, to get some money at home and get some things that I sent for — some tobacco of both kinds, smoking and chewing, for it good to keep off the smell when we have to clean up the camp.”

In March, 1863, the regiment moved to Suffolk, Virginia, a locale Martin Culver was less than impressed with, as he revealed in his letter written March 18, 1863.

“We are close to the city — if you may call it a city. But the rest of the country I have not had time to look at only it is all woods as far as I can see. We are about 20 miles from the Black Water. We came on with the wagon train and had to march 20 miles. We came to Portsmouth on the boat. Wednesday noon we started on the march. We came on 12 miles, put up to a farm house for the night and this morning came on to the regiment. 12 miles of our march was through a swamp so that we could not see our way out. I do not know what the movement is without we are to strengthen the force here.”

The 16th Connecticut Infantry stayed in Virginia into the summer, later relocating to Portsmouth, Virginia. On July 28, 1863, Martin Culver wrote about a difficult march the regiment made on the 4th of July an how he was surviving the scalding summer heat.

“I don’t know whether we had been on our raid or not when I wrote to you before. If we had not, I will give you a description of it next time I write.

Our 4th of July was on a hard march and with the thermometer about 120. I never suffered so much in the 3 weeks that we were away from the camp.

I have not been out of my tent hardly for this week. I have got 3 or 4 of Job’s comforters [boils] on me and I have to keep pretty still. I managed to get to the river and get some oysters yesterday and some crab — they are like lobsters, and some of them most as large.”

The 16th Connecticut Infantry in North Carolina

Photo of Andersonville Prison, Georgia taken on August 17, 1864 during the time Martin Culver and many other men of the 16th Connecticut Infantry were incarcerated there.
Photo of Andersonville Prison, Georgia taken on August 17, 1864 during the time Martin Culver and many other men of the 16th Connecticut Infantry were incarcerated there.

On September 14, 1863, Martin Culver wrote his first letter from North Carolina. While he thought little of the size of Suffolk, Virginia, his opinion of South Mills, North Carolina was even worse.

“5 companies of the regiment came here last week Wednesday. We are to stay 3 or 4 weeks. We are on picket and have to look out for bushwackers. It is about 30 miles from our old camp. We are in Camden County on the Dismal Swamp Canal. You think that it is lonesome out our way at home but this is the most God forsaken country that I ever saw. It is all swamp and pine woods for hundreds of miles. There are all kinds of animals here — coons, wildcats, snakes, what we call at home red eyes. We don’t get a mail without some of our men come down and I shall be glad when we get out of it.

We have but 96 men — half of the regiment that are reported for duty. We have had two thunder showers. You don’t get any of the kind North.”

The 16th Connecticut returned to Portsmouth, Virginia a few weeks later. In 1864, the regiment returned to North Carolina for a much longer stay.

On March 18, 1864, Martin Culver wrote from New Bern, North Carolina, and revealed a rather unusual souvenir he had obtained for his sister.

“I have got a piece of wood from the gunboat Underwriter that was boarded and taken by the rebels here in the river about 4 weeks ago. They tried to get away with her but she was fired into from our fort, blown up and burnt. She is now close by the shore at low water. I suppose you have seen the account of it in the paper. I have made a cross of it and if you get it, I want you to keep it.”

A month after this letter was written, the 16th Connecticut Infantry was on duty as part of the garrison of Plymouth, North Carolina, when it fell under overwhelming attack by Confederate forces under General Robert F. Hoke. The garrison surrendered on April 20, 1864 and much of the 16th Connecticut Infantry was then imprisoned at Andersonville. Martin Culver survived his imprisonment and was paroled on November 30, 1864. On May 7, 1865, wrote one final letter from New Bern, North Carolina.

“I received your letter the 2nd of the month but have been busy till today. I am at work in the carpenter shop now. There is not much to do here. The boys are on guard at the depot and have to go on the cars and boat to Fort Monroe, Washington, and other places to guard prisoners and other things. Civil law commences here the 16th of the month and then I suppose that we shall have to leave and I think that it will be for home when we do start.”

Martin Culver died on April 19, 1907 in Portland Connecticut.

We’d like to give a special thanks to William Griffing of Spared & Shared for his work in transcribing and sharing these letters.

To read more of Martin Culver’s letters and access thousands of other Civil War letters and documents, sign up for a Research Arsenal membership.

If you enjoyed this article, check out some of our other featured collections like Joseph Philp of the 161st New York Infantry and Alfred McClay of the 114th Pennsylvania Infantry.

Research Arsenal Spotlight 75: Joseph Philp 161st New York Infantry

Posted on by Gloria Wickman

Joseph Philp was born in Crediton, England in 1843 to Joseph Philp and Ellen Ann (Hutchinson) Philp. The family immigrated to the United States sometime in the mid 1840s. He enlisted in October, 1862, and served as a corporal in Companies B and C of the 161st New York Infantry.

The 161st New York Infantry Prepares for the Red River Campaign

A Union camp at Morganza Bend, Louisiana. Joseph Philp and the 161st New York Infantry spent some time at Morganza during 1864.
A Union camp at Morganza Bend, Louisiana. Joseph Philp and the 161st New York Infantry spent some time at Morganza during 1864.

On February 28, 1864, Joseph Philp wrote from Franklin, Louisiana to his father. The regiment had spent the winter in Louisiana and was now preparing to embark on the Red River Campaign, though the soldiers knew little about their intended destination, or the exact time of their departure, as Joseph Philp detailed in his letter.

“You will be surprised to hear that we are again under marching orders, again to make our way up through to Red River. I do not know how soon we will leave this place but I presume in less than ten days as we are ordered to pack our knapsacks so that they can be sent back to Brashear City or New Orleans. I think they have given us a short rest but it is time if we should have this rebellious war brought to a close, the sooner the better for both sides.”

By this time Joseph Philp was halfway through his three-year term of service. In the same letter, he wrote about the current size of his company which was much diminished from the ideal strength of one hundred men per company.

“All of the boys are well as common, I believe. Our comp have increased since we got back here. We have now with us 42 men — all good for duty. Some days one or two get excused from duty but that is nothing. It does not stop the progress of the days work. Even if death takes a comrade, it is not noticed in our duty. It is one thing over and over.”

Joseph Philp wrote again on March 14, 1864, and revealed that the regiment was still at Franklin, Louisiana, although he believed they would leave the next day. He also assured his parents that his financial situation was alright and that, unlike other soldiers, he did not drink or use tobacco. He also reflected on the local women and his belief that they should hold off getting married until after the end of war.

“We have not got paid off in a good while so I could not send you any but will as soon as it is possible. There is four months pay due us by the time it is paid. I do not complain as far as I am concerned — only for you. I can get along without money for a good while but it is not a great many that say thus. One thing I do not use — tobacco nor intoxicating drink. Therefore, all I spend is in useful things to support the family. What I mean by family is I supply them in writing paper. Do not take me that I have a family in this southern clime. I do not intend to have one as long as a soldier I am. When I am clear from military discipline, then I can talk with some of the young gals either north or south. I do not intend to say I will get a wife north, but I will say it may be here in this state that I find a suitor. You know a person should not be bound to his own state for a lover. There is too much deceit afloat.

We have a great deal of sport here about the gals all wanting to get married so bad. I feel sorry for them — poor creatures. They all should be united to someone if it is to the lowest of the low for the war will take a good many of the poor soldiers lives. So I would advise them if they get married to marry a man that is exempt for he may have to go & leave their honeymoon and perhaps will lose his life. I would — if I were a gal — wait until after this cruel war is over. I could have a better choice though. I do not know. These soldiers are a hard lot of men but there is exceptions, I hope, in this as well as anything else.”

Joseph Philp Writes from Across the South

Unfortunately, there is a gap in Joseph Philp’s correspondence spanning the Red River Campaign. The letters resume in August, 1864, when Joseph Philp was enduring the heat of the summer at White River Landing, Arkansas.

“As we (161st [New York Infantry]) are about to leave here for a different part of the Mississippi, I thought I could but sit down & let you know that I am well as usual and enjoying myself first rate considering the warmth of the weather. Perhaps you will think it warm when you can put matches out in the sun & they will catch fire with the warmth of the sun. Why it is enough to melt a person right down. It affects everyone this summer. I know it does me for one. It never troubled me as it does this summer but I can work it through if it does not get any warmer & I have my health. The prickly heat bothers me now but not so as to make me sick.

The Altay boys are all well as common. I am glad we are agoing to leave here but I do not like the idea of going down the river. The gen[eral] opinion is that we are agoing to Morganza [Louisiana] to build an arsenal. I can hardly believe it. They only will tell a soldier. Of course our General knows our destination.”

By November, 1864, the 161st New York Infantry was in Columbus, Kentucky, and looking to set up winter quarters.

“Again I seat myself to say a few words to you. I am well as usual & enjoying myself first rate considering the duty we have to do. Since coming here, it is every other day with the privates & every third & fourth day with the non-commissioned officers. I do not know how long we will remain here but I presume all winter as there is plenty of duty to do. All the white troops there is here is our regiment & one small battery & there is one colored regiment.

We left Paducah on the 25th for this place. The rest of our brigade is there or was by last account. I am in hopes we will stay here all winter as it is getting cool weather. It is time if we are to go into winter quarters this winter. We got all fixed up at Paducah but it was of no use. We have got fixed up here with our fireplaces & stoves — those that have any ambition at all. A little fire comes good these cool nights. It will be cooler to us this winter than it was last as we are a good deal farther north, but it will be healthier for us than it was. The weather does not go by fits & starts.”

Despite Joseph Philp’s belief that they would make their winter quarters at Columbus (after a failed attempt at Paducah, Kentucky), the 161st New York Infantry soon moved south to Memphis, Tennessee. Joseph Philp wrote on December 2, 1864, that the regiment had purchased a large quantity of wood to prepare their quarters.

“You will see by this that we have again moved southward. I am not sorry as I knows of for it is a good deal warmer here than at Columbus [Kentucky]. But the worst of it was that we had to leave our good quarters & again rebuild.

We got here on the 30th & now all — or nearly all — have good tents as we all went to the different saw mills & purchased to suit our taste for a house paying $40.00 dollars per thousand. It is poor stuff at that. It is the opinion that we stay here for some time now. If not here, at Columbus. I do hope we will stay here now as we have got all fixed up again.

There is quite a good many troops here but they are all under marching orders to be ready to leave after the 4th of this month — I believe to go to Nashville, Tennessee to reinforce Gen. Thomas. I hope our luck has changed after so long a time.”

And yet even Memphis proved temporary. Writing three weeks later, Joseph Philp informed his parents that the 161st New York Infantry had moved to yet another state. This time he wrote on December 23, 1864, from White River Landing, Arkansas.

“You will see that we are in the same old regiment as we are all on the move continually. I do not know how long we will remain here but I should think not long. We brought our lumber along with us from Memphis so we had a better chance to get up tents again. We went into an old camp that had of been left by some other regiment so it was not so bad as it might be. I had lumber enough to build a house to suit myself so I did so — I and my tent mate — as two in a tent is enough to be comfortable. We have got a nice little fire place as usual. I have got so that I do not care how long they stay in a place. I am ready to go any minute. It is tough but fair. It will not last always I hope on my part or anyone else’s either, as we have but a few more months at most. Three years is long enough for me at one time. Let some one else try it.

The war looks better to me now than it has before in regard to coming to a close. I do not think it will close in less than one year but I hope it will come sooner. I would like to see it close while I am a soldier. Time will tell the story how soon it closes.”

Joseph Philp at the Close of the War

Aerial View of Fort Jefferson, Florida. Note that the seawall was not fully completed until 1872.
Aerial View of Fort Jefferson, Florida. Note that the seawall was not fully completed until 1872. Via Wikimedia Commons.

In the summer of 1865, the 161st New York Infantry was ordered to do duty in Florida. The regiment did not muster out until November, 1865, which gave Joseph Philp a glimpse of the postwar South. On July 23, 1865, he wrote from Apalachicola, Florida, with some of his observations.

“Everything is going on nice in this place. The wharfs are covered with cotton, the old store houses a being filled up with goods of various kinds, the stores are open that have been closed for the past four years, the citizens are coming in on every boat & there is four boats going up & down the river everyday fetching in peaches, apples, & melons, green corn &c. &c. &c. &c. and everything looks like peace once more. Everywhere the yanks goes, there comes peace and good will towards men. The soldiers are thought a considerable of here by a good many and not so much by some as there is always some that still hold fast to their evil wars but they will come to it in course of time.”

On August 14, 1865, Joseph Philp wrote from Fort Jefferson, Florida where the 161st New York Infantry was on guard duty.

“The boys are all well as common and in the best of spirits considering all in all & it is a good healthy place here. We get fresh beef three times in ten days and that is more than we have been in the habit of getting unless we were on the march. Then we got it all the time.

The prisoners like our regiment first rate. They treat a prisoners as he should — not as a lot of hogs — because they stumbled on their way and fell on this island. I do not believe in misusing a person because he is under your hands because you have power to do as you see fit.”

After mustering out, Joseph Philp returned to New York. He married Sophronia Abigail Knapp and lived until 1920.

We’d like to give a special thanks to William Griffing of Spared & Shared for his work in transcribing and sharing these letters.

To read more of Joseph Philp’s letters and access thousands of other Civil War letters and documents, sign up for a Research Arsenal membership.

If you enjoyed this article, check out some of our other featured collections like Alfred McClay of the 114th Pennsylvania Infantry and Edwin Perry of the 11th Rhode Island Infantry.

Research Arsenal Spotlight 74: Alfred McClay 114th Pennsylvania Infantry

Posted on by Gloria Wickman

Alfred McClay was just 16 years old when he enlisted in Company E, 114th Pennsylvania Infantry. He was born in 1846 to Aaron and Margaret McClay. Both his parents died young and he lived with his aunt and uncle, John and Emily (McClay) Ryner. In his letters he addresses his aunt as “mother.”

The 114th Pennsylvania Infantry in Maryland and Virginia

Photograph of an unidentified soldier (not Alfred McClay) of the 114th Pennsylvania Infantry which shows the regiment’s distinctive uniform.
Photograph of an unidentified soldier of the 114th Pennsylvania Infantry which shows the regiment’s distinctive uniform via Central Virginia Battlefields Trust.

After being organized in August, 1862, the 114th Pennsylvania Infantry was sent south toward Washington, DC, passing through Baltimore along the way. On September 9, 1862, Alfred McClay wrote home about two separate incidents related to gun safety in the new regiment, one of which resulted in tragedy.

“In Saturday morning one of the men in Company H, while cleaning his revolver, one of the barrels was accidentally discharged, the ball passing through his pants tearing them to pieces but didn’t graze the skin and went into the ground. In the afternoon, Corporal [John] Bell of Co. B while cleaning his rifle in the company’s avenue, there was one of his own men standing in front of him a short distance going through the manual of arms [and] not knowing the piece was loaded, he aimed at his [Bell’s] head and pulled the trigger, and to his surprise the gun went off, the ball striking to the side of his nose and blowing out his left eye. He was taken in charge of the doctors and on Sunday morning early he was taken to the hospital and was soon after reported dead.”

On September 27, 1862, Alfred McClay wrote about his regiment traveling through northern Virginia and setting up a post near Bailey’s Crossroads.

“But after I sent the letter I found out that the whole regiment was to go out on picket on Wednesday morning. We got our great blue overcoats. We formed in line early in the morning and I tell you what it is, we looked gay with our new coats. We started off with the band and drum corps ahead and went back the road from Arlington Heights. The band left off at a short distance and then the drum corps struck up. When we got back about half a mile where some of our men were stationed on the inside picket and didn’t know that we got our coats, they asked what regiment it was when someone replied that it was the forty eleventh Smith’s Island and many other names. For the first three miles all the way back to Bailey’s Crossroads it was nothing but one big hill after another, just like the Schuylkill Hill opposite to Rockdale and such a poor, deserted country you never saw. Here and there a house with the sides all knocked in and nobody living in them and nothing but weeds and briars growing—no vegetation anywheres.

We went about two miles beyond the Crossroads and then struck off on a by-road to the left. Our company had 5 posts besides the Lieutenant’s headquarters. Each post had 5 men and 1 corporal which made the watch easy. I was on the reserve force and kept with the Lieutenant all day.”

A Spooky Time on Picket

In October, 1862, the 114th Infantry was stationed below Arlington Heights, Virginia. That month, Alfred McClay wrote home about his sergeant’s rather unorthodox method of testing the readiness of the pickets.

“When I went on at 9 o’clock, it had stopped raining and was pretty light by the moon. The corporal and the men kept close together in case of danger. We had to walk up and down the path of 60 yards. We had to keep a good look out as the posts were a good ways apart. Our sergeant came around just before 11 o’clock to try the men on guard. He has on a pair of white leggings that come way up to his knees and had his coat sleeves rolled so as to make himself look like a ghost. I saw him when he was about 15 yards off. I challenged him thus, “Halt, who comes there?!” Bringing my gun to an arms apost as we usually do, I had it loaded too. He replied, “Friend,” with the countersign. I called out, “Advance friend and give the countersign.” He came up and give it within 4 paces of me, then brought my piece to a shoulder arms to leave him pass. He thought he would try to get my gun but he wasn’t quite sharp enough. He says to me, “How do you come to an arms apost?” I brought my piece to an arms apost again to show him. He says, “Let me show you how to do it,” and he reached out for my piece but I dragged back on him and exclaimed, “No sir!” He says that is right and passed on. He tried 7 men that way and got 4 guns out of the 7 but he didn’t report them. He scared one man pretty near out of his wits. He stood in the bushes along the so as the sentinel couldn’t see him when he within twenty paces he stepped out suddenly before him in the path, the sentinel called out, “Ha, ha, ha, halt, oh mercy, how you scared me, Sergeant. The Colonel came around with the grand rounds about half past 3. He asked our corporal what he would do if the rebels shelled the woods. He said he would try to get us out quick. The Colonel told him he should put his men behind stumps and then the shells would not hit us and if cavalry come, we could pick them [off] and if infantry come, to fall back to the reserves and charge on them.”

A week later, on October 13, 1862, Alfred McClay wrote about a difficult march the regiment endured, and how his Captain helped him by carrying his gun part of the way.

“We crossed the bridge at Georgetown and passed through the town. Coming through the streets on the rough stones bruised my feet so that I could scarcely walk. At last we got on the turnpike that leads direct to Poolesville. It [took] very near all day. It was pretty cool too. We reached Rockville about half past 4 that afternoon after marching 18 miles. We encamped in a fair ground that night. After we would sit down to rest a few minutes and then get up, we [could] scarcely stand on our feet. The Captain said that my knapsack was 3 times as heavy as it ought to [be]. My woolen blanket—part of it—was soaking wet and my piece of tent was wet which made it very heavy. Each one of us carried our own piece of tent. The Captain seen that I was pretty near give out and that I tried my best to get along. He carried my gun over 2 miles for me but I hung on and got up to the regiment as it stopped. Hundreds of men gave out and straggled all along the road. Some of the men throwed away nearly everything but I held on to everything but one blue and white shirt. The road was strewn with every kind of articles that the men throwed away.”

Alfred McClay at the Battle of Fredericksburg

Painting of the Battle of Fredericksburg depicting the 114th Pennsylvania Infantry by Carl Rochling.
Painting of the Battle of Fredericksburg depicting the 114th Pennsylvania Infantry by Carl Rochling via Wikimedia Commons.

On November 20, 1862, Alfred McClay wrote a letter datelined “on the road to Fredericksburg.” In it he described the recent capture of Confederate forces and a friendly fire incident with artillery that fortunately did not result in any loss of life.

“We have captured some prisoners and horses and have got a good many things by foraging parties of the secesh. On November 7th it snowed very hard nearly all day. We marched a couple of miles and went into the woods and stood in line of battle for a long while, knapsacks and everything, still snowing until we got so cold that we had to make fires but we had to be careful and not make big ones so as the Rebs couldn’t tell where we were. The artillery went to the front on a hill. In a short time, as we were sitting around the fire, some of the men cooking meat, and one thing or another, all at once we were startled by the stunning report of one of the pieces. The boys all jumped up expecting to be taken into a fight almost every minute. For seven times boom went the gun but they soon found out their mistake as the troops we fired on knew that we were Union troops and they raised a white flag. It was some of our own cavalry. The shells bursted all around them but by the Providence of God, not a man was hurt.”

Unfortunately, the good news didn’t last. On December 18, 1862, Alfred McClay wrote a short letter revealing that he had been wounded at the Battle of Fredericksburg and taken to a hospital in Washington, DC.

“I take this opportunity of writing to you to let you know that I am in the hospital at Washington. Dear Mother, last Sunday at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. I got wounded at Fredericksburg and was sent to Washington. I came last night.

Dear Mother, I got wounded slight in the side. I don’t feel very ill. It is only but a flesh wound. Dear Mother, I have no more to say at present but I would like to be home at Christmas if I could.”

While in the hospital, Alfred McClay was visited by another uncle, Joseph Coleman, as well as the uncle who raised him, John Ryner, who he referred to as “Pap.” On January 2, 1863, Alfred wrote an update about his condition to his aunt.

“Yesterday afternoon, just before I received your letter, the doctor sounded me and examined me closely. He says I am getting along pretty well. He says that at first my wound was pretty dangerous but it is alright now. He also said that I have got the palpitation of the heart. I asked him what was the cause of it and he said it was from hard marches. I asked him if he thought I would be fit for service again. He didn’t say yes or no but asked if I would like to have my discharge. I told him yes and he said that I could get it but I won’t say anything more about it as you don’t want me to.”

Sadly, the improvement in Alfred McClay’s condition didn’t last and after another surgical operation on January 11, he died on January 24, 1863.

We’d like to give a special thanks to William Griffing of Spared & Shared for his work in transcribing and sharing these letters.

To read more of Alfred McClay’s letters and access thousands of other Civil War letters and documents, sign up for a Research Arsenal membership.

If you enjoyed this article, check out some of our other featured collections like Edwin Perry of the 11th Rhode Island Infantry and Charles Walbridge of the 100th New York Infantry.

Research Arsenal Spotlight 73: Edwin Perry 11th Rhode Island Infantry

Posted on by Gloria Wickman

Edwin Perry was born in August, 1843, to Daniel Bliss Perry and Lydia Ann (Carpenter) Perry of Rehoboth, Massachusetts. Despite living in Massachusetts, Edwin Perry enlisted as a private in Company C of the 11th Rhode Island Infantry. He wrote his letters to an unnamed brother.

Edwin Perry at Miner’s Hill, Virginia and in Hospital

Headquarters of Company F, 11th Rhode Island Infantry at Miner’s Hill, Virginia.
Headquarters of Company F, 11th Rhode Island Infantry at Miner’s Hill, Virginia.

The letters in our collection begin in October, 1862 when the 11th Rhode Island Infantry was camped near Miner’s Hill, Virginia. The 11th Rhode Infantry was mustered into service on October 1, 1862 and left for Washington, D.C. on October 6.

On October 21, 1862, Edwin Perry wrote to his brother that the regiment was currently on the march though he did not know their final destination.

“Last night we received marching orders and early this morning after partaking of an early breakfast, this regiment together with the 133rd New York and 22nd Connecticut Regiments took up our line of march for this place. The weather was quite cool so that we were greatly favored in carrying our load which consisted of a well-stuffed knapsack, haversack, canteen, musket, and equipments with forty rounds of cartridges.

We reached this ground about ten o’clock this morning and after marching and countermarching for another hour at last halted on a turnip field and a orchard. By two o’clock we had our tent put up and now four o’clock all the boys excepting [Pvt. Orin F.] Munroe are asleep. He is writing like me.

We received orders not to be too particular about putting up tents as we were to march again tomorrow — some say further to the right — others toward Harpers Ferry — and others to our old camping ground and from thence to Washington and then to Port Royal. The latter seems to have the best foundation as two companies which were to go on picket duty after receiving their rations, packing their clothes, marching some distance were ordered back, and if we were going but a few miles in any direction, they would not [have] been recalled.”

In January, 1863, Edwin Perry was staying in the hospital near his regiment. He had apparently been there for some time and was working on regaining his strength. He wrote on January 8, that the Doctor had cleared him to return to duty but the head nurse wanted him to stay.

“I continue to gain strength with every effort. I have walked up to camp and back again every day for a week — some days twice as far.

The box you sent is a rich treat, I tell you. I am living high and sleeping in the hospital. Yesterday the Doctor gave me my discharge from this institution and told me to report at camp but the head nurse has took the responsibility of keeping me here a while longer. He thought I was not strong enough to endure camp life. I’d rather stay here a week longer than to go to camp [just] now. There has been another sudden change in the weather from warm to cold accompanied by high winds which are very uncomfortable on these high hills where the division is encamped.”

In the same letter, Edwin Perry detailed some of the afflictions of the other patients in the hospital.

“Yesterday they brought a man here who has had the fever and ague together with convulsions. During these times, it takes four men to hold him. This forenoon he has had one chill and four convulsions. He can not stand them a great while longer and live. When he is reasonable, he cries considerable and says he never shall get home. This a solemn sight but this is one of the fortunes of war. But a person gets used of these things seeing it continually before him. I saw a case of sympathetic mania today in the case of one of the patients. Soon after the man had passed through the convulsions, I spoke of this patient (who has the pleura pneumonia) was taken in the same way as other although not quite as hard. As I now write, one of these men is on the way to the General Hospital at Washington; the other will probably go tomorrow. They can’t go too soon for me.”

Edwin Perry at Camp Distribution

On February 8, 1863, Edwin Perry wrote from Camp Distribution near Alexandria, Virginia. At that time the 11th Rhode Island Infantry was doing guard duty at the Convalescent Camp, while Edwin Perry was on detached duty. The men at the camp had just recently been paid, leading to tighter security and to Edwin Perry sharing a joke about the greenback money they received.

“I like this detached service better than being with my regiment because here there are no dress parades, no knapsack inspections, and no guard around the camp to keep us in, besides numerous little things which we are not obliged to do here.

Since the regiment was paid off in February, the restrictions on the camp have been [made] rigid. No one can pass off or on without a pass. Bayonets will not stop the men as they would in Dexter training grounds but bullets will[…]

[…]Have you seen this conundrum? ‘Why is the government currency like the ancient Israelites?” — “Because they are the issue of Abraham’s and know not their redeemer.’”

Two days later, on February 8, 1863, Edwin Perry gave a description of the camp and the discovery of a man overrun by “strangers” which may have been a slang term for lice.

“The new camping ground is situated in a much pretty location than ever before, being located on a high table land overlooking the Potomac. Camp Distribution is situated on the north side of the road leading from Alexandria to Camp Convalescent. In a former letter, I wrote you that men sent to Camp Convalescent who are able to [perform] duty are sent from there to their regiments. This is not so, for they are first sent here and then under guard outside of the picket line to their regiments at the front. This camp we are now engaged in guarding — it is rather hard looking. It consists of common A tents, pitched on the ground with nothing but Virginia mud for the men to sleep on.

The remaining brigades of General McCall’s division arrived here yesterday morning but have not yet formed an encampment as they expect to move further. These men look rather the worse for wear. Some of them are sitting around the fire shivering with their blankets on. This morning the second and third relief were sent to take down some tents of long standing supposed to be unoccupied but inside they found a human being — if I may so call him — who was perfectly alive with many strangers.  His feet were frozen and when found, he could not stand alone. I presume he had looked for a place to sleep and had crawled in here where he was attacked by these strangers who perfectly unmaned him.”

On February 15, Edwin Perry wrote about the poor conditions of the camp and how the doctor did very little to attend to the sick.

“All those in the distribution camp have to sleep on the ground. This causes a great amount of sickness. The doctor who has charge of the camp does things up in a hurry. For instance, a morning at sick call perhaps a hundred men are drawn up in line waiting their turn. The guard lets in the first man.

Dr: What the matter with you?

Soldier: I have a severe pain in my side, Sir.

Dr: Give him some liniment. Next.

Dr: What’s the matter with you?

Soldier: I have rupture, Sir.

Dr: Who told you you had a rupture. There is nothing the matter with you. Like to go to the convalescent camp again suppose! Clear out! Don’t you let me catch you here again. If I do I will put you in the guard house.

This is the way he examines perhaps sixty men in an hour. In fact, he has now [no] more mercy for a man than I would have for a beast.”

Continued Guard Duty

Postwar photo of Edwin Perry of the 11th Rhode Island Infantry.
Postwar photo of Edwin Perry of the 11th Rhode Island Infantry via Spared & Shared.

Edwin Perry wrote more about guard duty in a letter dated  February 18, 1863. The prisoners he was tasked to guard were not Confederate prisoners of war but Union soldiers that had committed various offences. He also described how he was becoming more accustomed to sights that would have once made him squeamish.

“Yesterday it snowed all day and today the rain is carrying it off. I stood four hours yesterday in a snowstorm. And now let me say a word in regard to the three reliefs. The first and second go on at nine in the morning and stay until five at night at which time the third relief go on and stay until nine o’clock and are not again called out until five o’clock this morning. This gives us the whole night to sleep.

We have an odd way of keeping prisoners here. Two posts are placed firmly in the ground to which a rope is stretched across. To this the men are handcuffed. This gives them the liberty of walking back and forth perhaps ten feet.

We cannot get passes to go to Alexandria now except on business. My nerves are getting stronger so that I can look and see teeth pulled and dug out without my heart’s jumping. Dr. [Moses S.] Eldredge of our mess is doing considerable business. Yesterday he dug out a tooth while the person was under the influence of ether.”

In a letter written a week later, Edwin Perry made a rather humorous remark about the second lieutenant of his company who transferred to service in the navy.

“Our Second Lieutenant [Seth W. Cowing] left us today. He takes a position in the Navy. He could not go too soon so my best wishes are for his poor success. Lieut. [William A.] James has command here now.”

Edwin Perry continued to serve on guard duty. On March 11, 1863 he wrote about a recent visit to Fort Worth, located on Seminary Heights.

“Yesterday I paid a visit to Fort Worth beyond Fairfax Seminary. It is situated on the brow of a high hill overlooking a large valley. The fort mounts about thirty guns of which the largest throws a one hundred pound shot. The bed and carriage is constructed of solid iron. There are a number of large Parrott guns of beautiful workmanship. Besides these and some common sixty-fours, there are some eight mortars placed on massive beds of iron. There are also two pieces of light artillery bearing the inscription ‘Whitworth Guns Presented by the Loyal Americans in Europe to the Government of the U.S.’ You will remember of reading about this about a year ago. These are made of steel and are bronzed like a musket about ten feet in length and breech loading.”

Edwin Perry mustered out of the service a few months later on July 13, 1863. He married Ella Jane Moore in 1869. He died sometime after 1905.

We’d like to give a special thanks to William Griffing of Spared & Shared for his work in sharing and transcribing these letters.

To read more of Edwin Perry’s letters and access thousands of other Civil War letters and documents, sign up for a Research Arsenal membership.

If you enjoyed this article, check out some of our other featured collections like Charles Walbridge of the 100th New York Infantry and Abraham Crumbecker of the 32nd Ohio Infantry.

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