Hauling Secrets

One of my favorite finds was 13 pages of letters written by a Union soldier during the Civil War. I spent a few days squinting at the thin, brown paper to transcribe them all.

Some of the papers are actual letters addressed to the soldier’s wife or his “companion”; others seem to be personal records with dates & places and short notes of what happened when & where. Some sheets of paper have both letter and record combined. (I can imagine paper being somewhat scarce then.)

Below are some excerpts of my transcriptions. I’ve added punctuation and corrected some misspellings and grammatical errors to aid in understanding the content of the text. Other “errors” I’ve left intact to preserve some of the idiosyncratic charm of the writing. I put “errors” in quotes because you have to remember that spelling was not nearly so standard back then as it is now. The handwriting of the originals is hard to read at parts. Words or phrases that I’m not sure about are enclosed in brackets or followed by a question mark. I’ve tried my best to put all the following passages in chronological order, from Jan 24 1862 to July 2 1864, after which time we can only assume this soldier finished his service to his country - or died in it.

There are so many little treasures in this text, but I’ve tried to keep the commentary to a minimum, so you can enjoy it the way I have.

“Jan 24-30 of 1862, Boling Green”:

I have not forgotten you nor thy children, this is from your husband in the Company D 39th Reg Ind of the US Army of the Ohio commanded by Genl Rosecrans[?]. Our old Genl Willick is back and commanding our Brigade

Later on the page he says he “got my likeness taken” and “sent my likeness to my wife”.

Then, “in camp 6 Mil SE of Nash Tenn, Nov the 21st 1862″

…in the evening of the 23 a contraband woman of 18 years came and told us how that her master had given information to a Rebel soldier about our lines and number. She came with us to camp and of course is free, and her master a prisoner.

“Contraband woman” was a common term for a woman slave who fled North across battle lines during the Civil War. You can hear the naivety of the young soldier in his brief “of course she is free”. Of course it was never that simple.

Saturday [?] 13th 1862:

…nothing of much entrust ocurd [occurred]…

That’s a favorite phrase of this soldier. Usually it comes near descriptions of the weather - “most buity full” etc. - and interspersed with quick notes about the fighting:

…the battle was renewd agen this morning but was not so hard as yesterday til night when our men stormd the Rifle Pits at this time the battle raged hard for one and ½ hours…at 2pm we went out to look for our dead and I was sent to the Hospital as nurse…

October the 25th 1862 near Sylvania, KY:

…[other soldier’s name] came out that night and told us to go get whiskey it snowed and blowed all night…the most snow I ever saw…we melted snow to make coffee…some Reble prisoners came to our fort…

“November the 1st 1862, Franklin KY, Tyree Springs[?], Cumberland River about 2 mi above Nashville”:

the 18th at 6 AM we was attacked by Sam Cav[?] but they was met promptly we followed them for 4 M and then shelled them and went back to our post where we stayed til 3 PM when we was relieved by the 15 Ohio…theh 19 the Rebles came back this morning but a few shells sent them back…20, cold and rainy today but the Harvard Tribune came the one of the 18 of September late news…23 A Contraband Woman came in our lines and of course is free

“the 24 of November 1862″:

…we went out with a forage train we went out 4 mi loaded our wagons, some Rebles came up but one…was turnd on them and the same[?] left, we did not lose any men, we loaded our wagons at a Reble Captin’s house…I will tell you how you can do sum thing for me, make or get me a pair of woolen gloves, you can send them by mail put them up as small as you can in paper and put 15 cents of stamps on it…

Another, undated:

I’ll not think hard of you because I did not get them things you send me for I know not what month you sent them but it is gone and let it [?] don’t [?] about it, it all goes during the War, I don’t care if we all only keep our health. I have a bad cold but else I am very hardy…

…the Rebels have burnt the other night a RR track about 2 or 3 miles south of our Pickets but our [?] them far[?] at last to Sunday on the Cumberland River they took every thing they had about 1200 horses and Mules 100 Wagons Tents and Hospital and Commisary Stars[?] all of great[?] bales here…

…don’t be afraid of old England, She is not going to come, and if she does let[‘s?] try and another round…

Here he’s probably referring to rumors of England’s potential involvement in the War (on the South’s side) after the Trent Affair. I like how he then refers to the Revolutionary War with a cocky, Civil-War-era “bring ‘em on.”

Occasionally there will be an entire letter written out in paragraph form:

In camp 6 m SE of Nashville Tenn, Nov the 28th 1862

Dear companion, it is with pleasure that I try to write a few lines. It is buity full weather today, and I hope your mind is as clear as the skies are today. I am well and nothing wanting as a Soldier. The health is pretty good in camp. How long we will stay here no body knows…the boys are filling[?] the country with no account. Many our company has past some 200 Dol of the Northern Indian RR Co, which never was good nor never will be good, besides all the counterfeit Confederate[?] money that is past…

…I have one request to make of you when you can get a large family Bible and fill the [?] our, also the time I left Hamberg, the 15 of May 1853, the time I came to this country 14 July 1853 and the time I left home 26 Aug 1861, I want this record kept for the children’s sake.

I am still well, I tell you, that the 89th Reg is doing well, and I don’t think that they have a right to [?] up, for Uncle Sam has to pay them. As for sleeping in stalls, we would be glad to have that chance, but by the time they have went through the flint[?] mill as the 39th or 20 [?] how they will think of these good times…

We went in to camp with 1014 men and at one time at Camp Wood we only 275 for duty, now we howl in our Company about 70 men all in pretty good health, but let me tell you that after marching 20 or 25 Mm and then go on Picket and not build fire (for that would tell the enemy just where we are) and next morning go with out breakfast 12 or 25 mi, maybe wet and cold that gets[?] pretty hard, but it all has to be done, and the cheerfuler a man can do it the better for him. I have no overcoat, nor do I want one, for only a few months and we have to throw them away, and I am going to do without one…

December 1 1862:

It rained and stormed all last night cold and cloudy all day. I sent the payroll last night for extra pay for the month of October 61. I saw Robert Gordon today. December the 2 nothing of much entrust to day I washed all day 5 pair of drawers & shirts. Wednesday the 3 I went to Nashville to get some extra pay but failed to get it, the Reg went out on Picket, I stayed in camp. the 4…32 Reg went out with a forage train found some Rebles had[?] some killed and wounded our men took 2 prisoners…the 5th Brigade was sent out with a forage train got into a fight lost 13 wag and some men we took 12 prisoners…

At another place he mentions relishing the sight of enemy soldiers getting shot as they fled:

…we held the hill one hour and…it pleased me well to see them run and then fall before they came to the woods…

And another undated passage:

…the Rebels was trying to get back to Chattanooga and we had to go all there [to] keep them from doing so…on the 22 Sep our Reg was left out in front the rest ? all drawd in the Rebs came in full line of battle and it was revealed to us [that?] our Army had moved across the River. [It] was the darkest hour ever I seen…

…as we was drove back to the City [we] found all our men there fortifying…20 horses killed and 6 men…

“Sequatchie Valley, November the 4th (18)63″:

…it was one of the hardest trips that ever I made going to Stevenson that night through the dust [the bench box?] Soldiers at Stevenson look at us as if they never seen Soldiers before us and our horses was covered with dust going from Chattanooga to Stevenson in less than 24 hours over Waldenseige (not Walnut Mountain, as M. J. [?] says)…

…We got clothing the other day but no shirts. It is not Unckle Sam’s fault but our own officers. Our [Custermaster?]is not worth the Salt he eats let alone the whiskey he drinks…

…I am sorry you had to sell the cow but it was the best you could do, if you can keep [Feyd’s] calf do so, I am glad you got a stove, I think you do well…if you can go home in the Spring in time to make your garden and I’ll be there in the fall to eat it…

…so you got all I sent, I don’t need any thing but gloves, I got the children’s pictures yet in my German Testament…

“Cedar Grove Sequatchie Valley Tenn Jan 23rd 1864″:

Dear companion again I am seated at my table to write you a few lines. Another week has almost passed and I am still well & hearty. One year ago tonight I was lying prostrated blind and helpless. A man lying by my side with the same disease died this night one year ago…but here I am through the mercy of the Almighty…

…I have washed today but only my own clothing for I don’t wash any more for pay not since I was sick. I thought I would tell you great many things tonight and so I could if I were with you but by some cause not known to me I can not write tonight and…will quit but shall try it again some other time, good night Amen.

Jan the 26 1864:

I cannot help but writing a few lines tonight after working all day. It was 29 months this morning since I saw you or any thing that is dear to me on earth, but I can say with the poet
Nothing on earth I call my own
A stranger to the world unknown
I all their wealth despise.
I trample on their whole delight
And seek a country out of sight,
A country in the Skies.
Another week has gone to return no more. So one week after another passes away and soon the last week of our separation will be here. O how I long for the time to see those that are dear to me.
- from your husband in the hands of love

“Campe near Richmon[?] VA, Julye the 2 1864″:

Dear mother, I take my pen in hand to write to you to let you know that I am still alive yet and well. I have been through several fights since we left Tennessee but have never been hurt yet thought it is not too late for the Yankeys…

…I want to hear from you very bad and want to see you…and the…children very bad but the chance is gloomy now for me to see them soon…

…I have written several letters to you and have not received but one letter from you since we have been up here…you must write of the news to me write to me how the corn crops is and wheat and potatoes and how the sheep is getting along…

…I will tell[?] you I have fell [?] hard[?] times the most of the time I write to you how long I have without any thing at all to eat you would not believe it I have lived three days and nights without anything at all to eat…

It’s funny how the pleasures I get from reading these Civil War letters are so similar to the pleasures afforded from something like Dear Lee Chin: the mundane details of everyday life, the cute misspellings, the idioms I didn’t know those people used, the random things people cared about, and so on. Or all the stuff that’s so annoying to read about on someone’s blog today. Yet somehow, with a little bit of removal, it becomes fascinating.