Camp Near Petersburg, Va.,
September 9th, 1864.
I wish my Northern friends could look in and see my new house, this morning. My comrade and I worked all day yesterday, trying to make it comfortable. But first let me introduce my comrade, Mr. Charles Blanchard, son of Judge Blanchard, of Tecumseh, Michigan. He is a young man of good manners and pleasing address, is intelligent, and a very agreeable companion. Everybody calls him Charley. Like myself, he is a paroled prisoner. Now for the house. To begin, we went to the woods and cut four armfuls of poles, which was our building material; then leveled off the ground, ditching around a piece eight feet by twelve. This for our building and front yard. Next in order was the bedstead. Four stakes were driven into the ground, four feet by six feet apart, with a pole across each end. Across these, small poles were fitted, close together, for our spring mattress. On top of these, a thick coating of pine boughs, in lieu of feathers; on top of all, our rubbers and blankets are spread, and our bed is made. A soft, voluptuous bed it is. We then set two poles in the center of each end, to support a ridge pole. Over this pole is thrown our canvas, which is stretched to cover six by eight feet, the lower ends two feet from the ground for ventilation. To the ends we affix other pieces of tent, when behold, the bed is made and the house enclosed.
All that is lacking now is a floor, table and pantry. Lumber is scarce; sawmills there are none. After dinner, away we go, on a voyage of discovery. About a mile from camp we run across a deserted encampment, where we find plenty of lumber. Two trips suffices. We now have lumber, but no nails. Leaving Charlie to saw the boards to the proper length (with a hatchet), I start off in another direction after hardware. About a mile and a half from camp I find where some quartermaster’s cook has made firewood of hardtack and other boxes. In the ashes I find plenty of nails. Our task is now easy and soon completed, and we have as nice, comfortable house as soldiers can ask for in this climate.
I am gaining in health and strength every day. May and June, or the work I did in those two months, nearly used me up. I have placed Baby Nells picture in my diary, beside that of my wife, and never open it without first looking at them. Of one thing I am quite certain; we are on the best of terms, are baby and I. At first she was a little shy, or so I fancied, and frowned on me, as babies do on strangers. But now she smiles every time I take her —and so do I. If I do not come home until my three years of service expires, she will be eighteen months old, and I do love little babies so very dearly.
