August 17, Monday. Wrote Dahlgren, who has serious apprehensions about Laird’s ironclad steamers, which troubled Du Pont, that I thought he might feel assured they would not disturb him. Seward says Mr. Adams has made a vigorous protest, and informed the British Government if the Rebel ironclads are permitted to come out it will be casus belli. If he has taken that position, which I have always urged, and we persist in it, all will be well.
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Letter No. XIV.
Camp Near Fredericksburg, Va.,
August 17th, 1863.
My Precious Wife:
I have just learned that Colonel Sweet, of San Antonio, will start across the Mississippi in a day or two. I have no chance to write a letter. It is 9 o’clock at night; I am writing by a camp-fire with twenty men talking all around me. No news. I am stronger and in better health than I ever was in my life. Joe Ben Majors and Burwell Aycock reached us yesterday, and several others from the hospital. I wrote to Sister Mary Blair yesterday without knowing there would be an opportunity of sending it.
All the Waco boys are well. Love to Mr. and Mrs. Carter and Bro. Burleson, etc. Kiss the little darlings for me.
Your husband, faithfully ever,
John C. West.
August 17 — I was sick sure enough to-day, and in bed, or more properly in blanket, and wallowed around on the bosom of Mother Earth all day, with now and then a little grunt thrown in for a cradle song.
Headquarters Del. Dept.,
Wilmington, Del.,
Aug. 17th, 1863.
My dear Mother:
The month is rapidly passing away, and I am awaiting impatiently the time of my release. Meanwhile I do not mean to pine, but am trying to enjoy myself the best way possible. For instance, Saturday evening, took tea with the Bishop. Yesterday, dined with the Chief Justice. Now we are making arrangements to get up a steamboat excursion to Fort Delaware — a little private party of our own to return some of the civilities that have been paid us. We (Ned and I) mean to have all the pretty girls. Mrs. LaMotte, a charming lady, is to play matron, and I think will have a tolerably good time. So you see, as I said before, we don’t pine, still I shall be glad when I shall be at liberty to return home. Have just finished reading Mrs. Fanny Kemble’s book on plantation life. By George! I never heard anything to compare with her descriptions. They make one’s blood run cold. Though told with great simplicity and evident truth, compared with them Mrs. Stowe’s book is a mild dish of horrors. In this State of Delaware I believe there is a larger proportion of extreme Abolitionists than in Massachusetts. People are tired of being ruled by the lottery and slave interests which heretofore have locked hands together. Gen. Tyler is an unconditional man. When one protests his loyalty, the Gen. always asks him if his loyalty is great enough to acquiesce in the emancipation proclamation, and according to the answer, “Yes” or “No,” he is judged. Uncle Tom, I fear, wouldn’t stand much chance here. I had a few lines from Alfred Goddard a day or two ago. He seems to be well pleased with his position on Gen. Harland’s Staff. The letter you enclosed to me from Harry Heffron had all the latest news from the 79th. They have suffered much in following up Johnston in Mississippi from want of water, Johnston leaving in every well either a dead horse or a mule. Agreeable! They are now, however, on their way to Kentucky and rejoicing. McDonald is on Gen. Parke’s Staff. I believe my handwriting grows daily more unformed. How I have degenerated from the example Grandfather Adams set us. However, I have to write fast and sacrifice beauty to utility.
Best love.
Affec’y..
Will.
Monday, 17th. Reveille at daylight. Division moved to Crab Orchard at 8 A. M. I was left in charge of men behind with baggage. Stopped with A. B. Good time. R. M. Haskell’s Division of Infantry came in, also three Batteries of Artillery, 19th Shield’s, 2nd 1ll. and 1st R. I. Went over and saw Ed. Byerley. He came over. Saw Capt. Shields and Mark Crais. Wrote to Fannie and sent home letter.
Nicholasville, Ky., August 27th, 1863.
(probably the 17th, as this entry
is sequenced between the 16th
and the 20th in the book)
We are again enjoying the quiet of camp life. Our miniature tents are pitched in regular order, streets are policed and brigade guards posted to keep our unruly boys within bounds.
Colonel Luce, five line officers and twenty privates have gone home on furlough—others to Cincinnati on leave of absence. Everything indicates a period of rest. Our boys are trying to make up for their privations “down below.” Nearly every tent presents the appearance of a market for the sale of fruit or vegetables.
Potatoes, peaches, apples, cabbages, onions, watermelons and green corn are piled in heaps or lie around loose throughout the camp. Then we have artists, too. Two Daguerian cars are running full blast, where the boys get indifferent pictures at one dollar each. I saw a great curiosity today—a relic of bygone ages. About a mile from camp there is a shop where the old-fashioned spinning wheel is manufactured on quite an extensive scale, and they find a ready sale. This is a fair index to the progress of the people. Their manners, forms of speech and customs all point to past ages. They are very loyal and very friendly when sober, but when filled with corn whiskey, hypocrisy and self-interest take a back seat, and they speak their real sentiments with a frankness and fluency that is not at all flattering to us “Yanks.” From what I have seen, I conclude all Kentuckians drink whiskey. There are distilleries in every little town, where the “genuine article” is turned out. I called at a farm house one day for a drink of water. The good woman was catechising her son—a lad of ten or twelve years—about ten cents she had given him with which to buy some little notion at the store. She gave me a drink of water, then, turning to the young hopeful, angrily inquired, “But where’s that ten cents I gave you?” “I guv five cents to Bill.” “Where’s the other five?” “Bought my dram with it.” The explanation appeared satisfactory.
Monday, 17th—Our company went out on picket this morning. There is always danger of cavalry raids, particularly evenings. Some more of the sick boys were examined this morning by the doctor. The boys were hoping to get a sick furlough. There is some homesickness in the regiment, but a number will be made well by a thirty-day furlough. I am in good health and it is more than a year since I have had to report to the doctor, and then he marked me “not fit for duty” for only three days.
Vicksburg, Monday, Aug. 17. On detail after hay. Got out fifteen bales of new hay from the ”Laurel Hill.” Heavy work. Returned by dinner time. Cloudy and rainy in the evening. Why don’t the mail come!
Camp White, August 17, 1863.
Dear Uncle:—. . . It looks as if we should be very quiet here for two or three weeks, after which it is probable we shall push up into the mountains again for a campaign of three or four weeks. . . .
Sincerely,
R. B. Hayes.
S. Birchard.
Unidentified soldier in red battleshirt and kepi.
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Sixth-plate ambrotype, hand-colored ; 12.5 x 10.8 cm (mat)
Deposit by Tom Liljenquist; 2012
Liljenquist Family Collection of Civil War Photographs; Ambrotype/Tintype photograph filing series; Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division.
Record page for image is here.
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Note – This image has been digitally adjusted for one or more of the following:
- fade correction,
- color, contrast, and/or saturation enhancement
- selected spot and/or scratch removal
- cropped for composition and/or to accentuate subject matter
- straighten image
Civil War Portrait 060
