Army letters of Oliver Willcox Norton (Eighty-third Pennsylvania Volunteers)

Hall’s Hill, Va., Dec. 19th, 1861.

Dear Sister L.:—

This has been a busy week. We’ve been moving into our new tents and fixing ourselves comfortable for winter. Our tents are round, with two doors that can be closed tight, and a pole in the center with two tables, one above the other on the pole. We have some twelve or fourteen in ours. We have bunks made so that we can sleep in one-half of the tent, and not sleep on the ground, either. On the other side we have a rack for our guns, a table and a stove. Think of that—a stove, a little sheet iron one, with two griddles! The stove and pipe cost four dollars. It warms up the tent, and we think it a first-rate institution.

Our new uniforms are distributed and they improve the looks of the regiment wonderfully.

Bancroft, the great historian, came to see us the other day. We donned our “baglegs” and went out with the rest of the brigade and went through with a sham battle for his amusement. Martindale’s brigade was out this afternoon doing the same thing. Infantry, cavalry and artillery were doing their best. The regiment of infantry were blazing away at each other when a squadron of cavalry dashed round a piece of woods and charged down on them with the wildest yells. Then the artillery commenced firing on them (the cavalry) and they gave it up, wheeled and retreated. I was out in the woods after brush and came across the field. Quite a number of carriages were up from the city and I saw ladies watching the sport with a good deal of interest. They would start at the report of the cannons and give a nice little city scream, as ladies will.

I wish you could be here a few days to see the sights. It would do you so much good. I am getting some accustomed to the smell of powder. We go out every day target shooting, the whole regiment together. When we all get at it we make some noise. It would be quite a sight at home to see three or four hundred firing at once.

H. is in the hospital sick with the measles. He is doing first-rate, but he is so babyish that he makes a laughingstock of himself. I do not blame him much. Such letters as he gets from home from his mother and Mary, commencing, “My very dear, absent, brave, soldier boy,” or something like that, all of the ”muzzer’s pressus darlin'” order. He is a first-rate fellow, but I do wish he had more of the stiff upper lip and stoical bearing of the soldier. D. and myself are well. I am gaining. I weigh one hundred and thirty-five pounds.

I must tell you something about our new camp, for, though we are on the same ground, we have altered the looks of it materially. Each company’s tents are in a line, and we have good wide streets between. These are all nicely graded and a trench dug round each tent and on each side of the street. Each side is set out with pine and cedar trees, and many of the tents have arches and bowers of evergreens before the doors. At the head of each street a grand arch is made with the letter of the company or some other device suspended, all made of the evergreen trees and branches. Company E, in the center, has the widest street and a little the nicest arch, as they have the colors.

Company E has two side arches, for little doors, I suppose. I tell you these embellishments make our camp look very nice, and the streets are graded so nicely, and the ground in front of our camp is worn smooth and bare, so we have a splendid parade ground for company or battalion drills.

Everything looks as though we were to winter here. We are having delightful weather. I never saw such in December. Such glorious moonlight nights. Now, don’t tell, but I did wish I could be up in the land of snows long enough to have one evening’s sleigh-ride, but I am content.

Camp of the 83rd Penn. Volunteers,

Hall’s Hill, Va., Friday, Nov. 15, 1861.

Dear Friend P—s :—

We are still rusticating in the same camp where we have been since the first of October. There have been no movements of importance in this part of the army since then. The troops have been employed very busily in the meantime in perfecting themselves in all the duties of the soldier. Our regiment has earned the reputation of being the best in General Porter’s division. A suit of fancy uniforms (Zouave) was lately presented to General P. with instructions to give it to the best drilled regiment in his division. A committee was appointed from General McClellan’s staff who were to award the prize at a review of the division. Last Friday the trial came off. The weather was rainy and every way unfavorable, but some fifteen or twenty thousand troops were on the ground to compete for the prize. General McClellan said he was highly gratified with the discipline of the troops. He never saw better movements in his life. The committee were unanimous in awarding the uniform to the 83rd Regiment, Pennsylvania Volunteers. What do you think of that? It is no small thing for a new regiment to beat a number of regiments that have been in the field all summer, and the far-famed “Ellsworth Avengers,” but we have done it. We have earned a good reputation and we mean to keep it. We are now to have the post of honor and of danger—that of rifle skirmishers to be thrown out in advance of the army in action. It is expected by many that we will be sent south soon, to follow up the successes of the naval expedition by more and greater victories. At last our government has begun to show its hand and a policy to work with vigor. The papers teem with our victories in small battles, and the rebels are beginning to see that we have a government yet, a fact that they will find to their cost before we are done with them.

Camp of the 83rd Regiment, Penn. Volunteers,

Hall’s Hill, Va., Nov. 13, 1861.

Dear Sister L.:—

I have been sorry many times since that I wrote in the strain I did in my last letter, because I see by yours that it caused you pain. I ought not to have written so, I know, but that morning I sat down and wrote just as I felt. I could not help it. The fact is, most of the boys, when they write home, write in as cheerful a strain as possible, knowing that their friends will magnify all their news that is at all unfavorable and dwell on their hardships, when it can do no good. I did not think that you had forgotten me and have not at any time, but I wanted to have you write.

You will see by my letter to Mother that we have been busy lately. We have drilled a great deal, and when I come in from drill I feel so tired it seems as though I could not think clearly enough to sit down and write. We have achieved a great victory in a peaceful way, and I expect the consequence will be that we will be ordered south. If the southern expedition is successful it will probably be followed by sending an army south to follow up its success by ours, and a good many of the troops here will be sent off there, and we among the number. I shall be glad of that. I would rather go further south than to winter here. It has not been very cold here yet. To-day is uncomfortably warm. We are having some beautiful weather, Indian summer days, and clear, moonlight nights.

Our last Sunday on guard we had a good time. One of the guards down by the woods heard a noise like some one coming through the bushes. He challenged, “Halt! Who goes there?” No answer. “Halt!” again. He did not stop, and after challenging again, he raised his gun and fired at the noise. The report rang all over camp, and there was a crowd there soon. An awful squeal greeted his ears immediately after his fire and the guards soon found the secesh to be a great hog that was wandering round in the woods. He was not killed, but his countenance was awfully disfigured. He squealed his best till another load through his head stopped his noise.

Three of us rigged ourselves out in our most horrible shape the other night when we got the countersign, and went over to the Michigan regiment. We approached the sentinel, when he halted us and demanded, “Who goes there?” I replied in a theatrical voice, “The devil with the countersign.” The poor fellow was some dashed, but he finally recovered and replied, “Advance, one devil, and give the countersign. The countersign’s correct. Pass devils.” To the next challenge I replied, “A flock of sheep.” The guard was up to time then and immediately replied, “Advance, old buck, and give the countersign.” We made quite a round and had a lot of fun and came back with something to laugh over. One poor fellow shot off his middle finger the other night. 11c will have a sore time of it.

Camp Leslie, Hall’s Hill,

Fairfax County, Va., Oct. 27, 1861.

Dear Sister L.:—

It is a beautiful Sabbath morning and I am on guard. I suppose you are now at church, but have you thought of me this morning and wondered where I was and what I was doing, whether I was well or sick, and how long since I heard from you, and when you meant to write to me again?

Have you thought that I have been gone from home just two months, and, in that time, I have had just one letter from you? Have those two months seemed long or short to you? Have you missed my society at all in that time? Have you known how close I am to the rebel rifles, and how many times I have been ordered to be ready to go at a moment’s notice, and how many nights I have slept on my gun with my equipments buckled on, to be ready to fall in instantly? Have you thought of my standing guard at night in the rain when my clothes were soaked and my shoes full of water, and so tired I dare not stop walking lest I should fall asleep, which would be certain death? That is the way I live, and do you think I would like to hear from you often? You used to write when I was in Camp Wright, but lately I get no more letters. I don’t know why. Can it be that you have to write so many letters to C. that you have no time to write to me? I am not jealous, but it seems to me that there might be room enough in your heart for a little love for me, if you do love him very much. There, I won’t write in that strain any more. I know you will write, and often, too. And you want to hear from me, but what shall I write?

We are right here in the same camp that we have occupied for the last month nearly. We have received marching orders every three or four days, but they are always countermanded before we start. We are drilling very severely almost all the time. Two hours every morning with our knapsacks on, which is very hard work, and the rest of the day is mostly spent in battalion and brigade drill. Every time we go out we have some twenty or twenty-five pounds weight to carry, and carrying it so long is no boy’s play.

I have not been sick but one day. I felt dizzy then and left the ranks. I was threatened with a fever, but I used a little cold water and drove it off. I am growing poor, I can’t deny that, but still I am bony and tough. Many much larger men are giving out, while the small and slight ones endure best. H. is complaining considerable of the time. If he should live at home with his mother till he was gray, he would never be anything but a baby, but I guess we will break him of his notions here, partially, at least. He gets a letter almost every day, and isn’t satisfied then. D. is tolerably well, though he and H., too, are troubled some with the prevailing disorder in camp, diarrhea. I am case-hardened; that don’t affect me in the least. I can eat salt horse and wormy crackers and drink swamp water with impunity, the only fault being it don’t give strength enough for our severe exercise. We expect our pay the 1st of November, which will be soon now.

Yesterday we had a grand review. General McClellan and staff reviewed General Porter’s division, of which we form a part. Some eighteen regiments were present, besides several companies of artillery. We had breakfast at light, and had nothing to eat again until 4 p. m., and most of the time we were exercising pretty hard. I cannot tell you much about the parade, as the description would necessarily include many military terms which you would not understand. The troops were drawn up in three long lines and the artillery at one end of the lines. Each line wheeled into column and marched round in front and passed the general once in quick and once in double quick time, and the general and his staff rode along in front of, and in the rear of each line, each band playing as he passed its respective regiment. The review closes with a sham battle on one side. Our regiment was very highly complimented by the general, who said it was one of the best, if not the very best, on the whole field.

Everything is done with the strictest discipline. I cannot go to my quarters to-day or to-night without leave of the officer of the guard, nor can I take off a single article of clothing, but I must be here at the guard tents ready to fall in any time.

Camp Leslie, Hall’s Hill,

Fairfax County, Va., Oct. 26, 1861.

Friend P—s.:—

To-day has been a great day with us. General McClellan and staff reviewed General Porter’s Division, of which we form a part. Five brigades were reviewed. We are attached to General Butterfield’s Brigade. Our regiment was very highly complimented by the General, as one of the best, if not the best, on the field. We had a sham battle, an exciting time.

My health is still good. I feel the effects of severe drill some. It is as much as I can stand, but, while many are getting sick, I am all right yet. One poor fellow in our regiment died last night. The first one that has died since we left home.

Many seem to think that this war is soon to close. I am fully satisfied, however, that it cannot be ended without the emancipation proclamation, and I think that will be made next winter. I am in for thorough work while we’re at it, but I shudder for the results of the continuance of the war.

To-morrow we do guard duty. It is tiresome work. No sleep nights. Almost every time some fun occurs to relieve the monotony. An Irishman challenged a party the other night with, “Halt! Who goes there?” Ans.—”Grand rounds.” “Och, to the divil wid yez grand rounds; I thought it was the relafe guard.”

Camp Leslie, near Falls Church,

Fairfax County, Va., Oct. 8, 1861.

Friend P—s.:—

In accordance with your expressed desire and my own promise, I have commenced writing to you. I intended to have written before, but an aversion to writing at all, which I have acquired in camp, is my only excuse. The inconveniences, or the total want of all conveniences, makes letter-writing in camp a very different thing from the same at home. If you find my letter written with a pencil, my paper soiled, my pencilmanship execrable, and the whole thing miserable, please don’t set me down as one who knows no better or cares for nothing better, but excuse me as the victim of circumstances.

You will see by the date that I am in the advance army. Our Colonel has recommended us to General McClellan as a well drilled regiment, and we have been assigned the honorable position we now occupy. We reached Washington on Thursday evening, September 19th, and encamped on Meridian Hill, on the north side of the city, staying there long enough to get our arms, equipments and part of our uniforms, and see some of the lions (the Capitol, Patent Office, Arsenal, Old Abe and family, etc.), and then we crossed the Long Bridge and set foot on the “sacred soil”; the soil may be sacred, but we sacrilegious Yankees can’t help observing that it is awfully deficient in manure. It is so poor that buckwheat or beans won’t grow more than an inch high, and pennyroyal just sticks out.

We camped a few days near Fort Corcoran, on Arlington Heights, and then moved on to our present position. We are on Hall’s Hill, lately the line of the rebel pickets. We are in sight of Falls Church and the rebels are just beyond in some force. We expect to move down there this week, when they will have to fight or leave. They will probably choose the latter.

You probably read in the papers so much of the details of camp life that I won’t bore you by any lengthy description. Our regiment, I suppose, lives as all others do. Five of us sleep in a tent six feet by seven and keep our arms and accoutrements, too, in it. Our cooking is done in the open air, by swinging our camp kettles on poles over the fire. We live on salt beef, bacon, hard bread and beans.

Oct. 9th. I commenced writing yesterday, but was obliged to stop to attend drill, a very common incident in soldier life. The first thing in the morning is drill, then drill, then drill again. Then drill, drill, a little more drill. Then drill, and lastly, drill. Between drills, we drill, and sometimes stop to eat a little and have a roll-call.

General McClellan and staff, the Prince de Joinville, Due de Chartres, General McDowell and other notables visited us the other afternoon. This morning eight of our company went out on picket. I expect to go to-morrow. We look on it as an honor to be selected for pickets. I saw a flake of snow this morning. Night before last we had a tremendous storm, a heavy shower accompanied by hail and a furious wind. Many tents were blown flat, our Lieutenant’s among the number. We saved ours by holding it down, but were almost flooded out with the water. A baggage wagon, weighing nearly a ton, was lifted clear from the ground, and blown with its four horses some ten or twelve rods into the marsh. Our First Lieutenant was blown as much as twenty rods down into the edge of the wood before he could stop.

We are soldiering in earnest now. No Camp Wright work. I like it much better, and our men drill a great deal better when they feel that they are so near the enemy and see the need of improving their time.

I have had only one letter from home since I left. I am expecting one now, and have been for some time.

I do not think there will be any great battle here very soon, though I have no means of knowing to a certainty.