Camp Russell, Virginia, December 9 (Evening), 1864.
My Darling: — We have had two winter days. It has been snowing f or the last hour or two. We feel that this ends our campaigning for this year. The last of the Sixth Corps left this morning. One “grapevine” (our word for camp rumor) says they have gone to Kentucky or Tennessee by way of the Ohio River, and another that they passed through Washington on the way to Grant. I conjecture the last is the truth.
General Crook gave me a very agreeable present this afternoon a pair of his old brigadier-general straps. The stars are somewhat dimmed with hard service, but will correspond pretty well with my rusty old blouse. Of course I am very much gratified by the promotion. I know perfectly well that the rank has been conferred on all sorts of small people and so cheapened shamefully but I can’t help feeling that getting it at the close of a most bloody campaign on the recommendation of fighting generals like Crook and Sheridan is a different thing from the same rank conferred well, as it has been in some instances.
Dr. Joe is busy court-martialling one of his brethren, who as medical chief of our hospitals at Winchester turned into private profit the medicines, stimulants, chickens, eggs, etc., which had been provided for our wounded.
We hope to get home together the last of this month or early next, but no one can yet tell what is to be our fate. We are waiting on Sherman and the weather. — My love to all.
Affectionately ever, your
R.
P. S. — I am ever so glad that Governor Chase is Chief Justice. I had given up all hope of his appointment.
I sent to Gallipolis directing my trunk or valise to be expressed to Chillicothe care of William McKell. If he is put to expense, as he will be, perhaps, have it paid. Get into it — my duds may need airing. — I shall want two or three pairs knit woollen socks.
Mrs. Hayes.
