War Letters of William Thompson Lusk.

Beaufort, S. C. May 28th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

After 12 o’clock at night, and the certainty of a fatiguing day to-morrow, to be followed still by days in which sleep will be but stingily indulged in — so I must write briefly. At length a prospect is before us of active service. The long dreamed of time has arrived, and the word “Onward to Charleston” has been spoken. Unless a steamer arrives to-morrow from the North, which shall utterly change all plans, on Friday we will make our start. The same steamer that takes you this will likewise make known to you my fate. I trust I may write you from Charleston. The plan of attack is Benham’s. Hunter only suffers it. Capt. Elliott is off to-night to destroy the railroad communication between Charleston and Savannah. He is our principal dependence when anything desperate is to be wisely done.

Multitudes of farewell kisses for yourself, sisters, the little boys, and others claiming love, and the kindest remembrances to Hunt, Tom, Walter, Horace, Sam and others.

Good-bye, dear Mother.

Affec’y.,

Will.

Beaufort, S. C. May 18th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

I am going to write you a short letter to-night, as there are some rumors of business on hand this week, which may not leave me much time for correspondence. If it should turn out a false alarm, I will try and write again shortly. Time is slipping by rapidly, as my clothes testify especially, and unless I soon receive a reinforcement to my stock, I shall look like a “Secesh” after a twelve-month blockade. My present suit, after standing by me nobly for several months, seemed all of a sudden to give out all over, as you know clothes will do at times. Fact is, I supposed I should have been home for a few days long before now, but a favorable moment does not seem to turn up ready made to suit my case exactly. If you have a chance, please send me a cravat, as my own, under the influence of the weather, after passing through a thousand varieties of color, has finally settled into such rueful hues, that I have concluded to beg for another. Any lady that will make me a present of a new cravat, shall receive in exchange the old one as a specimen of what things come to after having been through the wars. A box of tooth-powder would likewise be acceptable as my teeth are getting quite shabby. Never mind, I will come home and get tinkered up one of these days, a thing I am mightily in need of. I wonder whether opening the Port of Beaufort will bring hitherward a large installment of the commerce of the world; if so, never mind about the tooth-powder.

We have all been pleasantly excited by the cunning escape of the negroes from Charleston with the Steamer “Planter.” The pilot, Robert, is the hero of the hour, and is really a most remarkable specimen of the dusky sons of Africa (alias nigger), never using a word of less than three syllables when an opportunity offers.

We all were in the habit of abusing Genl. Sherman in old times, but with customary fickleness, wish him back again now. This last batch of General officers with the “Great Superseder” (Hunter) at the head, is poor trash at best, so that there are few who would not rejoice to have “Uncle Tim” (Sherman) back again, notwithstanding his dyspepsia and peripatetic propensities. This is entre nous, and quite unofficial, for as my superior officer, I must recognize in the “Great Superseder” a miracle of wisdom, forecast and discretion. Oh my, what an ill-natured letter! Never mind, behind it all there is lots of love in it for those whose eyes it is likely to meet, and kisses too for my mother, sisters, nephews and others where they would be at once desirable and proper.

The “Connecticut” has arrived, but the mail has not been distributed yet.

Yours affec’y.,

W. T. Lusk.

Headquarters 2d Brigade.

My dear Mother:

The “Atlantic” has just arrived bringing me two letters from which I judge all is going on well at home. I had heard from Mr. Johnson that Lilly would soon be married, but I did not give the matter much thought, willing to wait until I should hear the story from the best of all sources of information — herself. I must say I cordially approve of the measure. Prudence is without doubt most commendable, and Mr. Matthus is certainly theoretically right, still, luckily for the happiness of young couples, I believe that it is generally conceded that it is in the shop of Care and Responsibility that the best kind of prudence gets fabricated. I go in for the wedding at any rate. Shall make myself merry on the occasion if allowed to attend, and have some romantic notions that trouble is not so hard to bear when there are two to share the burden. Anyway let Lilly write me, and give me her mature reflections on the subject.

I was very much gratified to think you took the little parcel of money I sent home last. It makes me feel quite proud to think I could be of any help in such a way. I do hope Dr. Grant will get sent to Congress. He would be such an honor to my native State, and would know how to keep his political garments clean, even in a cesspool such as our National Capitol.

Of course we are all hurrahing for the evacuation of Yorktown. It so happens that the rebels have no place its equal in strength in the whole confederacy. Yet that wretched puling sheet, the _______, while professing pleasure, is covertly pursuing McClellan as usual, declaring that the work had been greatly exaggerated, and that we might have had Yorktown a month ago. My dear Mother, I have had the pleasure of seeing and knowing the pack of vagabonds that follow our armies in the employ of newspapers for the purpose of criticising our movements, and I know that truth, fairness and principle in description go only so far as the politics of their respective sheets allow. It would make you indignant could you see the characters who take upon themselves the censorship of our military movement. Such a thing as any reasonable acquaintance with what they prate about, is unnecessary and probably would interfere too much with the style of their criticism.

You may see Wm. Ely, who is now North. He is one of our Conn. boys who does his state great credit.

We had a concert here a few evenings ago, so I will enclose the programme.

Good-bye. Much love to all.

Your affec. Son,

Will.

Beaufort, S. C. May 2d, 1862.

My dear Mother:

May has opened charmingly in Beaufort. The air is warm but not oppressive. We are luxuriating in green peas, strawberries, blackberries, all the early vegetables, and the fig trees, loaded with fruit, will soon supply us with an abundance of green figs. Fish are supplied by the rivers in great plenty. Indeed we are well supplied with all sorts of good things, so we have little of which we can complain, except inaction. It is now fifteen days since a mail has reached us from the North. Telegraphic news in the columns of the Charleston Mercury dated the 26th, speaks of the city being in great alarm from the advancing army and fleet of Genl. Butler. A sailing vessel occasionally brings us a newspaper from the North. Otherwise we would be quite separated from the rest of mankind, and would be compelled to consider the North as having regularly seceded from us.

I have received the beautiful flag you sent me. I gave it to the boys of the Company, who were delighted. The other companies are quite envious. Thanks, dear Mother, a thousand times, for the expression of your love.

I think after all I must have that new suit of clothes I wrote for before. Notwithstanding all efforts to the contrary, my old suit will persist in growing daily rustier, and more unseemly in the seams. So if you will please have the suit ordered, I shall find good use for it full as soon as it shall be ready for me.

Tell Mr. Johnson I had a right pleasant time with his friend Bronson, and add too that Sloat’s men produced such an effect on the 79th Regiment, that it is impossible to persuade them that the whole affair of allotment is anything more than a Jew swindle. I am looking forward with great delight to the next steamer arrival, anticipating a heavy mail after so long neglect. There is so little of interest to write. I believe I wrote you there was quite a charming lady, a Mrs. Caverly, stopping at the General’s. Her husband is dying with consumption and has come here to try the effect of the climate. You can imagine that a pretty and lively lady makes quite a difference in the house.

You do not know how inexpressibly indignant I feel at the attacks made on McClellan. They are certainly most scandalous, and calculated to ensure his defeat were he in any wise what his enemies represent him. It is the height of folly to suppose that men are going to sacrifice their lives, unless they have good reason to suppose that they are to be brought at the right moment to the right spot to play their part in gaining a victory. You have only to convince them that incompetent men are putting them in positions to occasion a defeat, and they will run before a shot is fired. It would seem that the enemies of McClellan are doing their utmost to produce that sort of spirit of distrust in our troops, so as to lead to new disasters. I am sick and tired of these howling politicians who would be willing to see everything we consider holy destroyed, provided they could only under the new regime get the Governmental patronage of the devil.

Affec’y. your son,

Will.

Flourishes supposed to indicate genius.

Beaufort, S. C. April 15th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

Not wishing you to be exposed to disappointment, I must write a few brief lines by the mail that I have just learned will leave here in a short time. I have hardly anything to write beside the delight at the news received by latest advices. The fall of No. 10, the battle at Corinth, and the surrender of Pulaski are a rare combination of good things to come at one time. I can give you no particulars regarding the bombardment at Pulaski, as it was expected to continue several days, and the General consequently postponed visiting the scene of action until it was too late. The newspapers, however, will be full of the matter, I suppose, and will be loud in their praises of General Hunter, though he had really nothing whatever to do with it. The whole affair was prepared under the Sherman regime, and to it belongs the credit. The one immediately deserving of credit is General Gilmore, who has had the direct superintendence of the matter.

We are hoping for reinforcements soon from the North, feeling, as we do, unwilling to enter into summer without having contributed something to the glory and success of our cause. But we are half relinquishing the hope that the Government considers our little post in other light than a good field for emancipation experiments. I am sorry to say I do not feel great sympathy in the efforts made at present in that line — not that I do not feel the necessity of the question’s being settled, or do not feel the same interest that others do in the question itself. I am delighted to think that the time has come when slavery has lost its power, and something is to be done for the regeneration of the negro, but believe the question to be one of such delicacy, and requiring in its solution such rare wisdom, that I can not but be filled with extreme disgust at the character of the agents employed. I do believe that there is hardly one of them who would have the slightest chance of success in anything but professional philanthropy. A more narrow-minded pack of fools I rarely ever met. Instead of showing the necessary qualities for the position, they seem to care for nothing but their miserable selves. There is undoubtedly some good leaven in the mass, but, could you see them, the men especially, I do not think they would command your sympathies much. I suppose such preliminary experiments have to be made though, before any systematic plan can be adopted for the general amelioration of the mass. I do wish though there were more unselfish ones among them, and a few more acquainted with worldly matters. The ladies are by far the best part, for they mostly came down under excitement, or determined to do good. Here’s a pretty dish of scandal, truly, but I get exasperated sometimes.

I am much obliged to Hattie for her kind offer to make the flag for me. Any such evidence of kindly feeling is appreciated, I assure you, down here.

A steamer lies embedded in the sand a short distance from the shore. I think it has some mail matter aboard, so I watch it impatiently.

Good-bye, dear Mother, love to all and believe me,

Affectionately,

Your son,

Will.

(To Horace Barnard)

Beaufort, S. C. April 12th, 1862.

I hardly know how, writing from peaceful Beaufort, I can find themes so exciting as to gratify the tastes of the public, used to tales of victories purchased at bloody rates; yet the importance of the work now quietly being wrought at Beaufort must not be underrated.

Here too, as well as on the splendid fields of the West, the spirit of John Brown is marching on. Toward the close of last autumn our troops entered Beaufort, then deserted by its inhabitants, and looking sad and desolate. Now the winter has passed away and the spring is far advanced. Nature has put on her most lovable hues. The dense dark foliage of the pine and the magnolia harmoniously mingle with the bright new leaves of the forest. The streets of the city are once more busy with life. Vessels float in the harbor. Plantations are being cultivated. Wharves are being built. Business is prosperous. And the quondam proud resort of the proudest of Aristocrats is being inundated with Yankees acquainted with low details regarding Dollars and Cents. There are all sorts of Yankee ventures in town, from the man with the patent armor recommended by McClellan, which no one buys, to the enterprising individual who manufactures pies in the old Connecticut style, and who has laid the foundation of an immense fortune. Even the “one only man of Beaufort,” catching the spirit of trade, displays a few dingy wares in a shop-window. “But why,” the impatient public asks, “is our Army so far away from Savannah?” “Strategy, my dear public,” I answer. Can anything be more beautiful than the strategy of our Leaders, which strips war of its terrors and makes it so eminently safe? Tell me, if Mars chooses to beat his sword into a ploughshare, and devote himself to the cultivation of sea-island cotton, and invites live Yankees to assist him therein, ought not the satire of the thing to please the restless spirit of John Brown and excite it to renewed efforts in its great performance of marching on? Now there is no doubt that our Army ought long ago to have been in possession of both Charleston and Savannah. Common sense teaches us that much, although we know nothing whatever of military affairs forsooth, and still less of the peculiar circumstances which happen to govern the action of our Generals. Well, when we see matters in this condition, common sense teaches us that the proper remedy is to decapitate incompetency, and to put the “right man in the right place.” The proper time for doing this is when, after long and earnest labor, a Commander is seen to be ready to strike a blow. Then is the moment to clamor loudly for his dismissal, and insist that another be put in his place, and when this one shall reap the harvest his predecessor sowed, we will all nod our heads approvingly at such evidence of our own ineffable wisdom. This is decidedly the most pleasant mode of proceeding for a public unacquainted with military matters but governed by common sense, and it is so satisfactory to all parties concerned, excepting perhaps the poor devil that gets decapitated. This, however, is a digression, intended possibly as a sort of “hæc fabula docet” derived from the recent capture of Pulaski. So, to return —

Oh, darn it all, my dear Horace, I’ll send the subscription price of the Evening Post without further delay. Here I’ve been floundering around, using up whole reams of paper trying to work up a newspaper style, but I have only succeeded in getting together a vast amount of material to kindle fires with. I thought I was doing beautifully when I commenced this, but, becoming disgusted with myself, I have concluded to give you the benefit of the production and spare the public. Thanks many times for your long, kind letter. You don’t know how enjoyable it was. It has got to be late at night and soldiers must rise early you know. I have just been reading over this epistle and see that I have been making a feeble effort to be funny. Prithee forgive me. I didn’t mean to. Give my love to Cousin Lou, Miss Hattie, Anima Mia, Miss Alice (if it be proper), and friends upon Murray Hill.

Very affec’y.,

Will Lusk.

Beaufort, S. C. April 10th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

I was glad to get your photograph, as it does not look, as did the other one you sent me, as though you were the last inhabitant without a friend left in the world. This one is a thousand times more agreeable, though I have to make allowances for those very extraordinary expressions which play about your mouth, when photographically tortured.

The bombardment of Pulaski has begun to-day. Full accounts, I hope, of the “fall” will be taken North by the steamer bearing this. We can hear the guns booming in the distance, but our Brigade, with the exception of the 8th Michigan Regiment, is condemned to remain at Beaufort. So I shall see nothing, but hope soon to hear the fort is ours, and, indeed, so secretly, yet so securely have preparations been made, that we can hardly fail of success. It is dangerous though to make predictions, so often have I read similar sentences in “Secesh” letters written just previous to a defeat.

The atmosphere is most delightful to-day. I wish you could breathe such balmy, though invigorating air. It is hard to realize that it soon will change to an atmosphere deleterious in character.

It is strange to think how ordinary dangers lose all terror in these war-times. I have been almost constantly exposed to smallpox, yet never have so much as thought of the matter further than to assure myself that the vaccination was all right. It is wonderful too how perfect a safeguard vaccination is. Although smallpox has been so prevalent, it has been wholly confined to the negroes and young children, and a few backwoodsmen, to whom modern safeguards were not accessible, or who had neglected the common precaution. I think there has not been a case among our vaccinated soldiers. It is quite a relief to feel that this is so.

I am glad to hear of all my friends wheeling so enthusiastically into the service of their country. As far as I can ascertain, the position of an Allotment Commissioner is one that requires an earnest determination to do something, to tempt any one to accept it, and yet it is really a philanthropic act to perform its purposes.

I wish Charley Johnson would come down here. I would give him the best reception I know how, and this is a pleasant season to visit Beaufort. You ask for my photograph, dear mother, and I meant long since to have gratified you, having had myself taken alone, in company with the Staff, and on horseback with the Staff—in a variety of positions, you see, to suit everyone. But I know not how it is that I have never been able to get a copy since they were first struck off, although we have had promises enough that they will soon be ready. I intended to surprise you, but despairing of success, I write the matter that you may not think I have not tried to gratify your wishes.

I am suffering great torments from the sand-flies which abound. These are the peskiest little creatures you ever saw, completely forbidding sleep on a warm night, and defying such flimsy obstruction as mosquito bars.

I wrote Sam Elliott a few days ago. Wm. Elliott has returned looking well, and disgusted with leaves of absence. He is really about the most efficient man in the Brigade. His education has given him great habits of self-reliance, which are invaluable in his profession. Give my love to Mrs. Walter Phelps, and tell her I expect she will send me a photograph of that precious baby of hers. Capital idea photographs are!

Love to all my dear friends.

Affec’y.,

Will.

Headquarters 2d Brigade, S. C.

Beaufort, S. C. April 3d, 1862.

My dear Mother:

The steamer has not yet gone, so I seat myself once more to write you a few lines. With regard to getting myself a new suit of clothes I have changed my mind for the present, having been fortunate enough to obtain a light flannel suit for every day wear, from one of the officers just returning from the North. This will be fully sufficient with my old suit, until I shall have an opportunity to return home — a thing not to be anticipated for the present — when I wish to appear as fine as possible. Mrs. Gen. Stevens returns by the “Atlantic,” it having been thought best by our new Commander to send home all officers’ wives. The order has not yet been issued, but Mrs. Stevens wishes to leave in time to anticipate it. On arriving at New-York, she will stop at the St. Nicholas Hotel for two or three days. If you can manage to see her, you will be much pleased with her, as she is extremely lady-like and agreeable.

I told Alfred Rockwell of your congratulations, at which he seemed much pleased. Love to all.

Affec’y.,

Will.

Headquarters 2d Brigade, S. C.

Beaufort, S. C. March 31st, 1862.

 My dear Mother:

I hear the “Atlantic,” which has just arrived, will return at once, so I do not feel willing to lie down without writing a few lines, though it is full bedtime now. Gen. Hunter was here this afternoon. I saw too little of him, however, to form any judgment with regard to him, as his visit was brief. Poor Sherman must betake himself to the Mississippi, and forego for the future the sweets of unrestrained authority. Sherman has doubtless done a good work down here, though he has gained no glorious victories. This, however, was not expected by Government, which never once thought of supplying him with the force requisite to active operation. To be sure his force comprises nearly 20,000 men, but it must be remembered this is not a great force when the line extends from Dan to Beersheba. I am no special admirer of Sherman, but still do not think it worth while to join in abusing him as bitterly as most do, for not attempting what did not lie in his power. Perhaps I am mistaken, but I hardly think it probable Gen. Hunter will do much better than his predecessor unless properly reinforced. Few Generals, I find, have that taste for fruitless slaughter common to civilians, and most shrink from sacrificing life where nothing definite can be gained. My friends frequently write, asking me if I am not disgusted at the utter inactivity of the Command, and at times I have written strongly, still I could not but know that we were so from necessity. We were sent here by Government simply to defend a Harbor where our blockading squadron could ride in safety. This object has been accomplished, and not only this, but the whole remaining coast as far as the Gulf of Mexico is occupied by our troops. More than this has been done, but I pause, for there will be much to tell when the war is over, which one may not mention now. I do not wish you to understand that Savannah and Charleston might not have been ours had our leader been a greater man than is generally vouchsafed to armies, but we must give him credit for accomplishing reasonable possibilities. Stevens, I think, would have accomplished impossibilities, but quien sabe.

We have all been much amused in reading the papers brought by the last mail, at the editorials of Bennett on “Our Only Son.” It is necessary to see “Our Only Son” to appreciate the feeling remarks of the tender parent.

Do not suppose that, because I felt some little amusement at the early experience of the “Brethren” down here, I am in any wise inclined to join in the vulgar abuse so common with the multitude. I sincerely trust, indeed, their efforts may be attended with success, and certainly know some extremely pleasant people among them. I do not like Mr. _____ though, and am inclined to doubt the sincerity of a few.

Had I been up North I should have tried to have got Gen. Tyler to make me his Adjutant-General, being able, I believe, to give satisfactory testimonials of capacity for the detail office-work of a Brigade, but I am too far away to heat my own irons, and, indeed, I suppose it is much better to wait down here, until something has been done by our Command. Write me if Frank Bend is to occupy the position I have mentioned. He could fill it well.

I have got quite well acquainted with two of General Tyler’s old Aides now on Gen. Sherman’s Staff and both fine fellows. I give the names, O’Rourke and Merrill, as Mrs. T. may have been acquainted with them.

Well, my dear mother, I write a deal that I would not like to have repeated.

My clothes, though quite lately new (December), are beginning to grow rusty. I think it would be a good plan to have a new suit made for me. I shall need it before it reaches me. I am greatly in need of shirts (3 will do me). You know I left home with a small valise. My wardrobe has since been diminished by Bull Run, by washerwomen, by thieves, and by natural wear and tear, so that I have become almost as much an object of charity as the contrabands. I have been under the hallucination ever since leaving home, that a good time would come when I would be able to return again, and fit myself out properly for a campaign. Not having seen the time yet, it was lucky that the box you sent me supplied me with the means of sustaining myself to say the least.

Now, my dear mother, fearing that you may exaggerate my needs, I will confess candidly that all I want are 3 or 4 shirts and a few pairs of stockings. Handkerchiefs and towels I have in abundance. I would like everything as plain as possible, for anything that has a tinge of red, or yellow or blue, it is impossible to prevent the negroes from appropriating to their own uses.

Before two months are over, the time for military operation down here will have passed, so we have every reason to suppose that the time has come when our Command will commence a victorious career. When the summer heats shall prevent any further movement, I trust, dear mother, I may be allowed to spend a few days with you. That would be so delightful. Good-bye, kiss all around, sisters, little ones and all. Love to Aunt Maria and Uncle Phelps. Tell the latter I will send him a check by the earliest opportunity.

Yours affec’y.,

Will.