79th Regiment,
Camp Near Falmouth, Va.,
Jan. 20th, 1863.
My dear Mother:
Yesterday I wrote Walter and was not a little despondent; to-day we are told that the auspicious moment has arrived. To-morrow we are once more to meet the enemy. All gloomy forebodings engendered by the idleness of camp-life, have vanished before the prospect of impending action. My heart is as light as a feather. Hope is dominant, and I can think only of the glorious result if we are victorious. The gloom that now rests on our country will be lifted, and I already hear citizens repeating with joyous lips: “We are victorious. Not in vain have been our sacrifices. We are proud of the army we have created.” Let then all tongues be hushed that cannot join in the glad paeans of victory. I will not think of defeat. If God is gracious, and granteth success to our arms, let the voice of selfishness be hushed, let there be no house of mourning. Let even mothers say we have given gladly the dearest thing we possessed to win the Nation’s rest. I have borne, dear mother, a charmed life heretofore. Even when conversing with comrades on the battlefield, death has singled them out, and left me unscathed, left me to witness the peril of the nation. What, then, if now the charm be broken, and my last moments be cheered with the thought of the Nation saved? Then let my mother and those that love me rejoice as I would in the full tide of victory. But should we triumph, and I live to see the end, think of the rapture we all would feel to think that to a poor worm like me had been vouchsafed the terrors of death, and at this cheap price been spared to view the glories of salvation to our country. Then think how sweet would be mother’s or sister’s kiss, or the glad welcome of trusted friends. But living, or fallen among the chosen, I trust if the tidings of victory be heard, all who love me will wear their gayest colors and cheeriest smiles, in the joy at the success of the cause in which the loved one rejoiced to risk his all. With such parting words I can go without a tremor into battle, and fear nothing where God ruleth Supreme.
You remember a year ago I wrote you I had had my likeness taken. Yesterday the impression reached me. I enclose you one now, and will send you by a convenient opportunity quite a number more. I have grown a good deal older since then, but you must take that for granted until I can find an opportunity to show you how the latest edition of your son looks. I will send likewise some views of the battlefield of Antietam, concerning which I will have strange stories to tell when the war is closed, and peace fairly, honorably won.
Affec’y., Will.
