Letter No. IX.
Camp Near Hagerstown, Md.,
July 9th, 1863.
My Precious Wife:
On yesterday I wrote a bungling letter to my “little man” intending it for his birthday, as I feared we would be ordered off to-day, and sure enough I have just learned we are to leave directly. God has mercifully preserved me through the terrible battle of Gettysburg, though my escape was as narrow as possible. I cannot attempt an account of the battle as a private only knows what occurred in his immediate presence. Our regiment went into the fight with 350 and lost 150 in killed, wounded and missing. Lieutenant Joe Smith, son of Captain Jack Smith, on Hog Creek, was killed. We had just climbed a stone fence and crossed a branch and little marsh. Lieutenant Smith had wet his handkerchief in the branch and tied it around his head. It was extremely hot. It was about 3 o’clock in the afternoon, and we had double-quicked across an open field for nearly 500 yards. He was killed in twenty feet of me, just after we crossed the branch—shot through the head, the bullet passing through the folds of his handkerchief on both sides. He was a splendid officer and we miss him very much.
From the 1st to the 6th of July I never took off my accouterments night or day. I marked in my Bible the Psalm which I read while in the line of battle among the rocks on the third of July. We were somewhat in advance of our main line and held our place, but could drive the enemy no further—neither could they dislodge us. We remained there until the close of the battle. I have requested my friends to save my Bible and the little tin cup, which baby gave me for you in case of my fall. I threw away my blankets and all of my extra clothing when we went into the battle, but I picked up a blanket on coming out. You need not trouble yourself about my wants, as it is impossible to make a soldier comfortable. I was soaking wet from the 2nd to the 6th of July, without meat and with little bread, and have been for some time; so you see if I had all the comforts you might fix for me, I would have to throw them away on a long, wet march. It is impossible to carry them. I started from Texas to find a fight, and I have made a success of it. I am much delighted and gratified at the way in which you seem to be spending your time. With kisses for the little ones, I am,
Your husband, faithfully ever,
John C. West.
