Camp Russell, December 17, 1864.
My Darling: — No certainty about things yet. We fired fifty guns yesterday and one hundred more today over General Thomas’ great victories. How happy our men are. We had an inspection today of the brigade. The Twenty-third was pronounced the crack regiment in appearance, etc. It looks very finely — as large as you used to see it at Camp White, but so changed in officers and men. A great many new ones at Camp White; then three hundred of the Twelfth in July; and three hundred conscripts, volunteers, and substitutes since. I could see only six to ten in a company of the old men. They all smiled as I rode by. But as I passed away I couldn’t help dropping a few natural tears. I felt as I did when I saw them mustered in at Camp Chase.
Captain Abbott joined us today— a prisoner since Cloyd’s Mountain. He is very happy to be back. He looks in good health, his arm not perfectly well.
Lieutenant McBride, the brave fellow who took Lieutenant-Colonel Edgar and forty-two others at Winchester, is here again. Sweet and Snyder are back. Hastings is in capital spirits; says he will be well long before next spring campaign. Heiliger writes me that he wants to get a commission in Hancock’s Veterans.
The band is playing its finest tonight. It contains all the old members and some good additions.
I have written the boys. I asked them how they would like to call the little soldier George Crook; they don’t reply. — Love to all.
Affectionately ever,
R.
Mrs. Hayes.
