_Camp on Rappahannock River,
Spottsylvania County, Va.,
December 28, 1862._
The weather during Christmas has been as warm and pleasant as I ever
saw it at the same season in South Carolina, but this morning it was
quite clear and cold. I like the cold weather here, for we have such
fine health. It is seldom that we have a man to die now. Our army was
in better fighting trim at the battle of Fredericksburg than at any
time since the war began, and it is still in the same condition. It
does not seem possible to defeat this army now with General Lee at its
head.
The Yankees are certainly very tired of this war. All the prisoners
I have talked with express themselves as completely worn out and
disgusted with it. Our regiment was on picket at the river a few days
ago and the Yankee pickets were on the opposite bank. There is no
firing between pickets now. It is forbidden in both armies. The men do
not even have their guns loaded. The two sides talk familiarly with
each other, and the Yankees say they are very anxious to have peace and
get home.
Edwin and James Allen dined with me yesterday and said it was the best
meal they had partaken of since they left home. We had fried tripe,
chicken and dumplings, shortened biscuits, tea which was sweetened, and
peach pie. Ed slept with me and took breakfast with me this morning. He
thought my quarters very good for camp.
I have a pocketful of money now, and while there is a dollar of it
left you can have all you wish. I would certainly like so very much to
be with you, but it will never do for our country to be sacrificed in
order that our selfish desires for comfort and ease may be gratified.
It is everyone’s duty to lend a helping hand to his country and never
abandon his post of duty because a few who have no patriotism do so.
While I write I hear Chaplain Beauschelle preaching at a tremendous
rate. He seems to think everyone is very deaf. I should prefer to
hear some ludicrous old negro preacher, for that would afford me some
amusement. To save my life I cannot think of anything more to write, so
good-by, my dear wife. Take good care of George.
_Camp on Rappahannock River, Va.,
January 11, 1863._
Yesterday was a very wet day, but we can keep fairly comfortable with
the little Yankee tents we have captured during the summer campaign and
with those which have been issued to us. Wood is very plentiful where
we are now encamped and we have rousing fires. We have been blessed so
far this winter in regard to weather. We have become so accustomed to
the cold that we do not mind it, and you will be surprised when I tell
you that for the last two nights I have slept part of the time without
any cover at all. When I was at home I would have a fresh cold every
two or three weeks during the winter, but now, with all our exposure,
I never have a cold, and I believe it is because I am in the same
temperature all the time.
Everything is very quiet here, and we have no prospect at all of a
fight. The Yankee forces are so large that we cannot expect to gain
more decided victories over them. All we can do is to hold them in
check until they are discouraged and worn out.
General Lee grants furloughs now to two at a time from each company,
and I may soon have a chance to get home. I am very anxious to see
George. He must be very attractive, but we must not dote on him or
anything else which is earthly. When you write tell me all about some
of his little capers.
_February 15, 1863.
(Sunday.)_
This is a very unpleasant day, but I am comfortable in my tent by the
fire. The snow and cold do not make it as disagreeable for us as one
would naturally suppose, because we have become accustomed to it. The
men seem to enjoy the snow very much. About two weeks ago it was more
than one foot deep, and some of the regiments met in regular battle
order and had snow fights with each other, and they would yell at a
great rate. The bitter cold of winter does not compare in severity with
the hard marching of a summer campaign, and I should prefer six winters
in camp to one summer on the march.
I saw the Medical Director yesterday at Hamilton’s Crossing. He was
very pleasant, and assigned me to the Thirteenth South Carolina
Regiment without any hesitation. In going to General Lee’s headquarters
I could see the Yankee camps distinctly, on the other side of the
river. I could even see their forces drilling. Their camps are very
extensive indeed, and the vast numbers of white tents which stretch
across the plains give it the appearance of a great city. This weather
puts a stop to Burnside’s advance, but I have no fear of defeat when he
does advance.
I went to the depot at Guinea’s Station and got the box from home. I
found it filled with everything which is good to eat, and I would not
care to fare any better than at present. I had Edwin, Jim Allen and Ben
Strother to take dinner with me the next day. They praised the dinner
very much and ate only as soldiers can. I must have all three of them
to come again in a day or two.
Two years ago from last Friday you and I were married, and how changed
is the scene since then! Little did we think that devastation and
distress would so soon spread over the entire land. War seems to be a
natural occurrence. It has been our misfortune to experience it, and
there is nothing we can do but endure it philosophically and try to
become resigned to it.
When you write tell me all the little particulars about George. I
dreamed last night of being at home, but thought he would have nothing
to do with me and treated me like an entire stranger.
_Camp near Rappahannock River, Va.,
March 5, 1863._
Edwin, Jim Allen and Ben Strother took dinner with me yesterday, and
I think I gave them a pretty good dinner for camp. We had biscuit,
excellent ham, fried potatoes, rice, light bread, butter, stewed fruit
and sugar. They ate heartily, as soldiers always do. Edwin is not
suffering from his wound, but on account of it he is privileged to have
his baggage hauled.
A man was shot near our regiment last Sunday for desertion. It was a
very solemn scene. The condemned man was seated on his coffin with his
hands tied across his breast. A file of twelve soldiers was brought up
to within six feet of him, and at the command a volley was fired right
into his breast. He was hit by but one ball, because eleven of the
guns were loaded with powder only. This was done so that no man can be
certain that he killed him. If he was, the thought of it might always
be painful to him. I have seen men marched through the camps under
guard with boards on their backs which were labeled, “I am a coward,”
or “I am a thief,” or “I am a shirker from battle,” and I saw one man
tied hand and foot astride the neck of a cannon and exposed to view
for sixteen hours. These severe punishments seem necessary to preserve
discipline.
We have no prospect of a fight now whatever, but if the weather
continues dry and pleasant it may come soon. We are too well entrenched
for them to attack us here, but it is hard to tell what these crazy,
fanatical Yankees intend to do.
Our troops are all in fine health. We seldom send a man to the hospital
now, but when we were on the Chickahominy River near Richmond we sent
from five to twelve each day. I trust we will be exposed to no greater
danger in the future than the bullets, for they do not compare in
destructiveness with disease. Captain Hunt’s company has lost seven
men from bullets and twenty-five from disease, and in most of the
companies the difference is greater than this.
The weather for the last three or four days has been very windy and
blustering and characteristic of March. It was intensely cold last
night, but to-day the sun broke out and it is pleasant.