Thousands of letters were sent from and received at the camps of the Army of the Potomac and Army of Northern Virginia while in central Virginia.
(Library of Congress)
Introduction
Just days before the Chancellorsville Campaign commenced, Sgt. Charles T. Bowen of the 12th US Infantry wrote home from Falmouth. “Send me about a dozen stamps for I have none,” Bowen pled. His earnest request was a common one found among Civil War soldiers’ letters, for good reason.
In his book, I Remain Yours: Common Lives in Civil War Letters, historian Christopher Hager estimates that from 1861 to 1865 “somewhere close to half a billion” letters were sent between the almost three million Civil War soldiers who served and their home front families and friends. Soldiers wrote home for connection and comfort, both emotional and physical. Their missives abound with references to letters and letter writing that shed significant light on their experience as soldiers and their relationships with those at home.
The ink and paper links between the home front and the war’s battle fronts and vice versa were strong ones that soldiers and their loved ones usually worked hard to maintain. The excitement soldiers expressed about anticipating the reception of letters is clear in hundreds of thousands of statements like that expressed by Lt. Thomas James Owen of the 50th New York Engineers. In his May 14, 1864, letter to his “Father and friends at home,” Owen ended his missive with, “Oh, I am anxious to hear from you.” Likely fearful for Owen’s safety—writing as he did during the beginning of the Overland Campaign–his “Father and friends at home” most assuredly felt the same way.
Time and time again soldiers informed their loved ones back home how much joy came from receiving letters. A couple of weeks after Chancellorsville, Maj. Eugene Minor Blackford, 5th Alabama Infantry, wrote to his cousin Mary Minor. Believing that the Army of Northern Virginia was soon to make a move, “as I have an idea that Lee has some splendid strategy on hand,” Blackford begged her, “make haste answer this long letter, page for page, or else I may not get it. Never forget that the receipt of letters is the soldier’s chief pleasure.”
(Library of Congress)
The 1st Texas Infantry’s Pvt. Henry Waters Berryman also expressed his delight in a December 22, 1862, letter to his mother from camp near Fredericksburg: “I received yours of the 22nd of November. We had just come out of line of battle into the woods to camp for the night when it came to hand. You can’t imagine how happy we were to hear from home, and on such a critical occasion too. You don’t know how it buoyed me up.”
Sgt. John H. Worsham of the 21st Virginia Infantry remembered the highs and lows of mail call during the war: “It made no difference as to hour, whether it was day, or one or two o’clock at night, when a man’s name was called for a letter, he was generally on hand to get it in person, unless on duty. It was interesting to watch those fellows as they gathered for their mail. Those who received letters went off with radiant countenances, and, if it was night, each built a fire to himself, for light, and, sitting down on the ground, read his letter over and over; while those unfortunates who got none, went off looking as if they had not a friend on earth!”
However, receiving news from home could also elicit mixed emotions. Getting bad news was difficult for some soldiers who felt helpless to remedy home situations from such distances and under tight army constrictions.
Pvt. John N. Henry, a hospital steward for the 49th New York Infantry, wrote to his wife on May 2, 1863. Henry explained that it had been three weeks since receiving her last letter, and while getting the letter “gave me great pleasure, that portion of it relating to Hattie’s difficulty not only gave me great distress of mind but kept me awake most of the night.” However, Henry always yearned to stay in touch as a letter from over a year later shows. On May 18, 1864, while the army fought desperately at Spotsylvania, Henry wrote, “My last letter from you was more than three weeks ago. . . . We have received no mail for two weeks.” Henry hoped that he would “get a letter from you before leaving our old camp as eight days had lapsed but I was disappointed.” Still, he begged, “Do write if you can & if you can’t, do get someone to write.”
Despite the logistics involved in moving such an enormous volume of mail, and the potential hazards that existed between the sender and the receiver, it is a wonder that so much mail successfully found its intended recipients. Additionally, for the most part, the efficiency of both the United States and Confederate States mail systems was impressive for much of the war. In a May 28, 1863, letter from Pvt. William Cowan McClellan of the 9th Alabama Infantry to his sister, he reported, “Your kind favor of the 22nd came to hand yesterday, having maid the trip in five days.” Likewise, Lt. Henry Ropes of the 20th Massachusetts communicated at least a couple of times a week with his family in Boston during the winter of 1862 and spring of 1863. While encamped in Falmouth, he was regularly receiving mail from them within four or five days.
(Public Domain)
Soldiers wrote and received their letters under all kinds of conditions. For example, the 55th New York Infantry’s Col. Regis de Trobriand, wrote to wife while still on the Fredericksburg battlefield. Explaining his current situation, Col. de Trobriand wrote, “It is impossible to send forward this letter to you which I write in a furrow where I am lying down facing an enemy battery which we reduced to silence twice, but which can open again its fire at any moment.” Providing even more details, he added, “A soldier lent a pen and ink to me that he pulled out of his knapsack, and I am writing to you these lines for tomorrow we will be relived from our perilous position. The skirmishers maintain the exchange of fire. Until tomorrow (if I am still of this world).”
Similarly, Lt. Cornelius L. Moore, 57th New York Infantry, writing from Fredericksburg to his sister Adeline on May 13, 1864, described receiving her letter while on the lines at the Wilderness. “Your letter of the 2d inst., came to hand on [May] the 6th, while we were lying behind a breastwork, thrown up after our second day’s fight with the enemy,” Moore penned. “I tell you it came like a bright winged messenger, but I was unable to answer it; but with a very few lines, and those I suppose never reached you. I have written you once since we have been here, also, which, perhaps will be more fortunate. I hope so, at any rate.”
Receiving love and support from home not only came through written words on paper and sealed in envelopes. Sometimes it came packed in a wooden box filled with supplemental food and clothes. Thousands of care package boxes—going both directions—made their way through the mail and the express services serving the Union and Confederate armies that provided a measure of physical comfort too often unavailable with issued uniforms and rations provided by their respective governments.
Corp. Tally Simpson of the 3rd South Carolina Infantry wrote to his aunt about a month after Fredericksburg sharing his joy of receiving a box from her. “Never in my life have I enjoyed good things from home . . . to more entire satisfaction. Tis useless to enumerate the many delicious articles contained in it, but suffice it to say that I have been eating, eating, eating, and am still eating, and some still remain,” Simpson delighted. He noted that his messmates watched with “a smile at the savage ferocity with which I made a simultaneous attack upon the whole box.” Simpson continued with military image comparisons in giving his thanks: “To say that I thought of you all many times while making the desperate charge would be superfluous, for what ungrateful wretch could tickle his appetite with such a delightful repast and be unmindful of the kind ones who troubled themselves for his unworthy sake? No, I am not such an ingrate. A thousand thanks, my dear Aunt, for such an abundance of delicacies.”
This month’s History Wire will examine excerpts from dozens of letters sent from the battlefields and camps of central Virgina in effort to keep the connections strong between the front lines and the home front. Too often we view soldiers as being only combat machines. We sometimes lose sight that they were fathers, sons, brothers, uncles, nephews, cousins, and friends who possessed human emotions that the war often tested, and sometimes changed, but never fully erased. Herein are a full range of sentiments that soldiers expressed from sending, receiving—and sometimes not receiving—letters and care package boxes.
Writing and Sending Letters
This sketch by Alfred Waud shows a mail wagon, heavy-laden with bags of letters, heading off to its next point of transportation, sorting, and distribution.
As briefly mentioned above, soldiers corresponded under a variety of circumstances. Writing only two months after suffering an extremely painful neck wound at Antietam, future Supreme Court justice Lt. Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., who at the time served in the 20th Massachusetts Infantry, wrote his sister Amelia from Falmouth: “So here we are, a week after starting & I’m writing by candlelight in [Lt. Herbert C.] Mason’s tent.” Holmes fell ill and missed the December 13, 1862, Battle of Fredericksburg, but eventually saw action there on May 3, 1863, when he was wounded in the foot.
Letters written on the battlefield were not uncommon. On December 15, 1862, the 27th New York Infantry’s Pvt. Rollin Truesdell, wrote to his sister from the south end of the Fredericksburg battlefield. Apparently, attempting to relive anxiety at home, Pvt. Truesdell explained, “I wrote to Father night before last, but under the present circumstances I suppose you wish to hear from me often, as far as possible I shall grant your often repeated request. I write under difficulties. We are on the battlefield where in day light we can scarcely raise our heads without being the target for the enemy’s sharp shooters, but under cover of darkness we stick ‘til day light beings to dawn when we make all things ready for breakers.”
Fellow Sixth Corps soldier, Lt. Charles Harvey Brewster, wrote to his mother as the Chancellorsville Campaign kicked off and while in line of battle opposite Fredericksburg. Brewster scribbled, “You see by the heading of this letter where I am, and probably wonder how I can be writing, but I do not know as I ever shall finish but thought I would at least commence a letter.” Like Pvt. Truesdell, Brewster wrote in less than ideal conditions, “PS I have written this stretched at full length on the ground with my paper on a knapsack so I don’t know as you can read it.”
On May 5, 1863, from what he called “Camp Intrenchment,” Georgian Capt. Shepherd Pryor, wrote to his wife Penelope, who he fondly called Nep. “As wee are lying in ditches today doing nothing, Il write you a fiew lines. Since I wrote you yesterday, wee mooved our line of battle closer up [to the enemy]; consequently wee had to entrench in great haist,” Pryor explained.
(Library Company of Philadelphia)
“Here I am, writing this letter on my lap on [last year’s] battlefield of Chancellorsville,” is how the 11th New Jersey Infantry’s Col. Robert McAllister began his May 4, 1864, letter to his wife Ellen. “We have reached this far without fighting—an unexpected matter for us,” McAllister noted. In a moment of reflection, and an unknowing foreshadow of what he would soon see during the Battle of the Wilderness, the colonel added, “Inclosed you will find two or three pretty violets and flowers that I picked up on the very ground where my regiment stood and fought so splendidly. The ground was made rich by the blood of our brave soldiers. I thought the flowers would be a relick prised by you.”
Even when not writing on the battlefield there were many duties and distractions that hindered correspondence. Writing to his wife from his camp at Kelly’s Ford in mid-December 1863, Capt. Henry F. Young, 7th Wisconsin Infantry, explained, “I rec your letter several days ago but I was so busy getting up a shanty I had no time to answer it and what is worse I had no place to write. Now that I have got a good comfortable shanty you shall hear form me more freequently.”
Alabamian Maj. Eugene Minor Blackford, writing to his mother from Santee in Caroline County, expressed a touch of frustration when he wrote that “Col. Hall is in my tent fighting over the battles of Chancellorsville for the 1000th time so I have betaken myself to the woods, which are very cool & shady at this hour of the morning, and will try to finish this sheet without interruption if possible.” Maj. Blackford, a native of Fredericksburg told her, “I would give any thing if I had one or two regular correspondents who would not count letters with me, but would make allowance for circumstances, which sometimes prevent a soldier from writing for a long time. Next to receiving a letter, the pleasure of answering it is the greatest we have.” To help her understand the importance of letters and the disappointment of not receiving one Blackford painted a word picture: “I wish you could see the scene at the drummer’s tent (who is also the postmaster) when the mail comes in, there is always a dense crowd and much amusement can be derived from listening to the various exclamations called forth by the reply ‘none for you.’ Of course the ‘Home Department’ comes in for much abuse. Some open their letters and read them on the spot, some go straight into the woods with theirs to be read in the quiet, while the majority move slowly off reading at the same time. I unfortunately have not had a single letter since the battle [of Chancellorsville] but those from home, and they have not been many.”
(Illustrated London News, April 30, 1864)
Winter encampments could be depressing places, but even more so without sending and receiving news from home. Some soldiers found a measure of comfort in writing. One such soldier, Pvt. Charles Biddlecom, 147th New York Infantry, poured out his emotions to his wife in his December 1863 letters from Kelly’s Ford. “I will write to you today for I am lonesome and writing is the only relief I have,” Biddlecom wrote.” Hoping that sending would result in receiving he concluded his letter, “Write just as often as you can and tell me everything just as it happens. The most trivial circumstance has an interest for me that you can hardly conceive of. Write twice a week if you can.” On Christmas, Charles wrote, “How I wish I could write a good cheerful letter once more, but when I try to be pleasant there will come up in my mind the hard times we have had and are yet to have ere this ‘Cruel War’ is over. Then, I get downhearted and sometimes almost feel as if the ends sought were not worth the sacrifice. Patriotism says different, but the mind reasons quite differently. Enough, enough of this. Let me try and get up a merrier heart and write a few lines that shall have a little sunshine in them.”
However, two days later, Biddlecom’s frustration boiled over. After listing a range of concerns and complaints, from his wife’s breastfeeding schedule, to not having a stove in her room, to inquiring about his son’s cold, he also criticized her ink: “Get some better ink, for that old ink is so pale that I can’t read you letters by firelight. I always get them after dark and have to wait ‘till the next morning before I can read them.” Biddlecom’s carping about Esther’s ink hid his true desire for immediate contact with home and his not wanting to wait until the next day to learn about what is going on there. It also masks his true desire to be at home rather than living in mud, seeing battlefield horrors, and suffering frequent spells of rheumatism.
Another hindrance to writing was expressed by Pennsylvanian George P. McClelland on the eve of the Overland Campaign to his sister Lizzie. McClelland explained, “When I write next, it will be from a different locality and if I was not like a heavily-burdened mule on the march, I might give you some ‘wayside jottings’, ‘life in the open air’ experiences. But a fellow gets so confounded tired that nothing interests him, oblivious of everything but self and that self’s comfort.”
Some soldiers risked sending cash home by mail. Writing to his parents just before the Chancellorsville Campaign, Sgt. William Remmel, 121st New York Infantry, wrote telling them, “Enclosed in this I send $11, part of the pay that I drew yesterday from the Paymaster.” Remmel received more money than he sent but he needed some to buy “a rubber blanket and other articles, which cost considerable, and besides I owed about $3 among the boys. Please accept this small sum that I send you and next time will try and send you more. Hoping that this will reach you safe. I will close this brief letter, hoping to hear from you soon.” About three weeks later, writing again, he “was happy to learn that my money had been received by you. The money I sent you was rather a small sum, but it gratifies me to think that you were satisfied with it and would not have complained if I had sent none.” Remmel, however, logically reasoned that “it is very necessary to have more or less money in one’s possession in the army, because a soldier’s life is imperiled almost the whole time. And if it should be his fortune to be wounded and not killed when taken to the hospital, there are many delicacies that a sick man needs and can be had, but not without the patient has money to buy them.”
Receiving (And Not Receiving) Letters
This sketch by Edwin Forbes shows a young soldier reading a letter from home. It is marked as being sketched in Culpeper on September 30, 1863.
(Library of Congress)
Written about ten days before the Battle of Fredericksburg, Tally Simpson’s letter to his sister Mary, is perhaps one of the best worded and thoughtful responses to receiving correspondence: “Is it possible then for me, weak in thought and expression, to correctly describe the pleasure I experienced on the reception of your long, beautiful, and extremely interesting epistle a few nights since? No, no, I will not kill the pleasure by attempting to describe it, and will leave you to judge what an exquisite pleasure it is by imagining yourself in my situation.” About five months later, Simpson shared similar thoughts to another sister, Anna: “Your last was received some time back and afforded me much pleasure, both on account of its length and the interesting matter it contained. You will please accept my warmest thanks for it and will likewise greatly oblige me by continuing in the same course for the future.”
The war strained husband-wife relationships for many couples. Many who had not spent any appreciable time apart since their wedding day now had to face months and even years apart. Letters helped strengthen bonds of affection despite the geographical distance between them. The 121st New York Infantry’s Sgt. John F. L. Hartwell wrote to his wife after Chancellorsville from his camp near White Oak Church praising her letter writing: “I have this minute received a letter from you written on the 12th & 13th & I will confess for once that tears of Joy coursed down my cheek as I read you affectionate letter. It was so full of sympathy & love to me it overcomes a soldiers heart & then I felt so happy to see your strong attachment to me ever grow stronger in proportion as I was in peril. I can only say to my chosen one I thank God not only that he spared my life but that I have a heart at home that feels so keenly my troubles and dangers.”
After complaining a week earlier about not receiving any letters from his wife, and imploring her, “I hope you will write soon, and write often,” Col. Francis Marion Parker, 30th North Carolina Infantry, penned her again, but this time after finally receiving one. “I received your letter of the 23rd on yesterday and right glad was I to get it; out here on our picket post, with nothing to interest us, nothing to do but to watch a few Yankee pickets on the opposite side of the river; the least thing interests us, in the way of reading, but when that reading is in the shape of a letter from a dear wife at home; one who we know loves us, as only a woman can love, then it is, that we can fully appreciate such favours,” he praised. Col. Parker added that he would be back in their main camp soon and that when he got there, “I shall hope to get more letters from you.”
Writing from his camp along the Rappahannock River a week after the Battle of Fredericksburg, Capt. Shepherd Pryor, 12th Georgia Infantry, beamed to wife how thrilled he was. “I got six letters from you yesterday; the latest [from December] the 7th. I was a proud soul sure to hear from you [for] the first time since I left the Valley [in early November]; also [got] some [letters] from William.” Receiving a letter from a loved one could improve a soldier’s morale better than just about anything else.
Outside of a furlough, soldiers looked forward to few things more than receiving mail.
(Library of Congress)
As joyful as receiving letters was for soldiers, not receiving them was extremely vexing. Irish Brigade soldier Peter Welsh writing to his wife from near Falmouth in mid-November, 1862, penned, “i feel very uneasy at not hearing from you the last letter i got from you was on the 18th of October . . . i have written three letters to you since i would have written oftener but i did not have time as we have been marching nearly all the time.” Writing again about two weeks later, Welsh, again dismayed, castigated her: “i feel very uneasy about not getting any letters from you i have not received any letter from you for over a month allthough i have wrote sever letter to you since i sent one last Sunday and just after i posted it we got orders to strike tents and move camp.”
After the dispiriting loss at Fredericksburg, soldiers often looked to letters from home to boost their morale. Many were left disappointed. Such was the case of Adj. James Thomas, 107th Pennsylvania, who wrote to his brother Selim in mid-January 1863. Frustrated, Thomas scribbled, “I received your letter last night, in it you ask why I don’t write? I do write, have written unitll I am about tired of writeing and receiving no replys. I have written 4 letters which, judging from what you say, none have been received. Two of them were to Lucy & 2 to Father. I also wrote to Francis, Amanda Downing & John Sexton, Bob Pearce, in fact I have written since the battle of Fredericks about 16 letters and have received replys to but 3 of them outside of the 2 or 3 I got from home. I have about quit asking the chaplain if he has anything for me, his answer haveing been nearly daily ‘nothing.’”
(National Archives and Records Administration)
For some soldiers the only thing worse than no letters was a short letter. A brief missive from his wife was Georgian Capt. Ujanirtus Allen’s chief complain when he wrote her just before the Chancellorsville Campaign. “Your letter of the 14th came to hand today; like all others from you it was quite interesting. I have only one objection to it[,] possibly you may find the same to this [one]—too short,” Allen instructed. “Why do we not pitch in and write longer letters as we [formerly] did. Do you suppose there is less news, do we need practice[?]” Capt. Allen noted that a recent furlough home had only “caused the sacred and unextinguishable fires on the alter of affection to burn with greater intensity, sheding a celestial light upon our path. I look back on my visit home as the brightest, happiest period of my life. How much more happy would I have been if it had not of been for the ever recurring thought that I would have to leave you.” His reasoning was that since they have to be apart to write often and make the letters long to maintain their strong relationship.
Requesting and Receiving Boxes
(Harper’s Weekly, January 2, 1862)
When it came to food and clothing the Federal and Confederate armies usually only supplied their soldiers with the basic necessities. And at times, due to manufacturing and logistical issues, even essential needs went unmet. Fortunately, for many soldiers, loved ones stepped in to try to help fill voids by sending boxes of foodstuffs, supplemental clothing, and even some creature comforts. Like letters, boxes buoyed sagging spirits, but unlike letters, they also met soldiers’ physical needs.
Mississippian William Cowper Nelson wrote to his mother following the Chancellorsville Campaign letting her know he received her last letter and apparently its notification that she had sent a box. Without the letter he may have never received the needed goods. “Your letter of the 12th ult [April], was received a few days since. I had not been to town for a month previous to the battle, and hence had no knowledge of a package being there for me. I was very glad to receive the clothing, as I was greatly in need of the articles,” Nelson explained.
Some soldiers got specific with their requested box items. Hearing that the mail for his brigade had been robbed near Christmastime 1862, New Yorker Pvt. Rollin Truesdell was afraid he had lost the $62 he sent home and was worried they didn’t get his request for a box. Writing to his sister, he explained, “I also sent for a box of things to come by express: a pair of boots, pair of gloves, four red soft flannel shirts, etc. I want you to take special care to have the shirts fine and well made. Of course I give you the right to put in anything else you choose. If you put in eatables, do not send gingerbread (snaps) for that is the only eatable thing that the sutlers bring us, and I hate the sight of them.”
Box sizes varied widely, but some must have been rather large due to the contents some soldiers listed. At other times soldiers received two or more boxes for large shipments. Such was the case for the Harvard Regiment’s Lt. Henry Ropes, who wrote his mother just after New Year 1863, from Falmouth. “At last you will be glad to know that the Express has opened and I have received today my 2 boxes and a bag. The bag contains 2 Blankets—most excellent ones—Coat, trousers, shirts, socks, drawers, etc. So please do not send me by mail the socks and drawers I asked for. I am now abundantly supplied with all kinds of clothes,” Lt. Ropes noted. “In one box . . . was the Cherry cordial, Brandy, Tea, Coffee, etc. and in the other the new shelter tent, Books, etc. etc. all of which are most acceptable, and will contribute greatly to my comfort and health.” Despite the boxes being sent in September and November, Ropes explained, “Nothing in any of the boxes or bag was injured in the least.” Apparently, more gifts were on the way as Ropes closed, “You were very kind to get me up such a nice Christmas box. I dare say I shall get it soon now.”
(Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper)
However, not all boxes arrived at their destination in good shape. Sometimes things spoiled, and items were broken or missing. Sgt. William Remmel wrote to his brother from his Culpeper County winter camp, to announce the box his parents had sent had arrived. But he also explained that “Some of the articles were taken out. There was a large hole in one corner of the bag in which the articles were packed, where the things undoubtedly found out by some shrewd villain’s hand. Two pair of socks, writing paper, envelopes, and other articles had been taken.” Remmel wrote that his father wanted a list of the missing items as he planned to “hold the Express Comp[any] responsible.”
An often-mentioned missing item was alcohol. The 28th Massachusetts’ Sgt. Peter Welsh informed his wife, “I received the box the day before yesterday everything came safe except the brandy[.] some scoundrell opened the bottom of the box and took the bottle of brandy[.] the bottle of whisky and the bottle of bitters came safe[.] when i opened it and found the whisky i thought it was all safe but when i went to look for the brandy i found the mufler and nothing in it[,] but we had a good time on what was in it[.] the cake was splendid.”
Along with alcohol, non-army foodstuffs and spices were popular requests to add some variety to their monotonous rations. Pennsylvanian James B. Thomas penned his box wishes to his father from his Belle Plain camp in January 1863. “I will mention a few of the articles I would like to have put in the box, but be sure not to put nothing in that would spoil should it be a good while on the way [here]. Black pepper, fine table salt, nutmugs, spices (of almost any kind), bakeing powder, a small quantity of each of the above. If you can get the article, sent 2 or 3 cans of condensed milk . . . 4 white iron stoneware sauces, 1# pulverized white sugar, 2 or 3 lemons, 2 saugages . . . preserves. . . .” At about the same time Rhode Island artillerist Peter Hunt received a box of foodstuff. However, Hunt wondered to his mother, “I would like to know who has so much regard for me as to send me two hardtacks.” Probably having all the hardtack he could stand from his army rations, he kidded, “I will come square with them whoever it was sometime.”
(Library of Congress)
In early December 1862, Sgt. Charles Bowen, 12th US Infantry, wrote a letter to “dear friends at home,’ from his camp near Falmouth. In the letter Bowen made numerous requests to fill a box, including “a pair of long gloves,” “two pair of your homemade socks,” “a cheap muffler,” “black thread,” “a small “compass,” and “plug tobacco.” When the box finally arrived two months later Bowen was ecstatic. He wrote immediately, “Day before yesterday someone said a lot of boxes had come up to the officers quarters & I turned out & went up to see if mine was there, & sure enough the first one I saw was mine. You better believe I was glad to get it. Those Boots are just exactly a perfect fit. . . . The Gloves and Muffler are splendid, & all came in just the right time if Old Joe [Hooker] makes a move. Our Lieut. offered me $10.00 for the gloves, but I would not sell them for $20.00. The contents of that box will make me the most comfortably clothed man in our regiment for which I am forever indebted to you, kind grandmother, & if God spares my life I will try & make you some amends for my former misconduct, & thus in part pay you for your uniform kindness to me.”
Conclusion
Maintaining relationships with loved ones on the home front was extremely important to Civil War soldiers. Without modern communication technology, soldiers and civilians relied primarily on writing letters and sending gifts to maintain important connections.
Overwhelming evidence is found within the pages of multitudes of surviving letters sent back and forth between soldiers and family and friends. These important primary sources clearly prove that the emotional and material support that flowed through the mail was vital toward maintaining soldiers’ commitment to their respective causes.
Suggested Reading
Christopher Hager. I Remain Yours: Common Lives in Civil War Letters. Harvard University Press, 2018.
Parting Shot
Sketched by Edwin Forbes at Rappahannock Station, March 14, 1864.
(Library of Congress)
“Mary send me a Box of mustard for we have Lots of Fresh Beeaf now [that] we are in Camp. thair is lots that i want But it is a goin to make the Box to Large for when the Box Comes we may haft to Lug it 2 or 3 miles.” “mary Be shure and send me some Good bread and butter and some Good mince Pies for if we move i cane Put my Pies in to my haversack. . . . hurry it up for we all feal ancious to git Somthing from home. it will taste so Good the boys are saying when I Git my Box from home i will have about 3 inches on the ribs the first Day.”
Pvt. Alonzo Bump, 77th New York Infantry, December 23, 1862.
NEWSLETTER SIGN-UP
Join our community! Sign up for our newsletter to receive exclusive updates, event information, and preservation news directly to your inbox.