"The health of our regiment has been very bad. It is almost unfit for
duty. We could only turn out two hundred for company drill, and could
hardly march five hundred to-morrow. Diarrhoea, chills and fever, and
measles are prevalent. Our officers are almost all laid up. Colonel
Morgan has gone to a private house to recruit for a few days. Aleck and
I have been the only officers at headquarters who have been entirely
fit for duty for several days."
Notwithstanding the condition of the regiment it became necessary for
me to run down to St. Louis by rail to bring forward our supply of
winter clothing, blankets, etc., and my wife met me there for a day. I
am answering her first letter after her return to Evansville, October
23:--
"I am sorry to have you write so despondingly, or rather was sorry to
know you felt so lonely (I always want you to write just as you feel).
But it was natural that you should feel badly after our separation,
for I know what my own feelings were. I trust you are more hopeful and
cheerful now. You must remember it is all for the best. I would be with
you in our comfortable home, enjoying all the happiness which you and
my dear and kind friends could bestow upon me, if I could. But it is
impossible. I should be a miserable coward to stay at home in ease and
luxury at such a time of national calamity and need."
I wrote again two days later, showing that I had a clear vision of the
result of Frémont's grand march to destroy Price:--
"I hardly think we can get off before the first of next week, but it
doesn't make much difference to us. We will hardly have a battle at
any rate, and will only march down into the lower part of the State to
winter, or drag our weary way back again. If this expedition is not a
Moscow defeat, I shall be highly gratified. But you must not be alarmed
about me. The officer who has a horse to ride and comfortably equipped
will be well situated, but it is the poor foot soldier who has to
suffer."