A Confederate surgeon's letters to his wife

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,
August 10, 1863.

All is quiet here now. When two armies have a great battle both sides are so crippled up that neither is anxious to fight soon again. The enemy must be somewhere about, or we would not be here. I do think there will not be another fight soon, for the Yankees dread us too much. It seems that Meade will not attack us, and that whenever we fight we must make the attack. I believe it will be a long time before we have another battle, if we have to wait for the enemy to advance on us.

Our long trip lately was very fatiguing, and we all became very thin and lean, although our health remained fine. Your brother tells me the Pioneer Corps had a very hard time of it on the way back from Pennsylvania. He took a more direct route to Culpeper Court House than we did, in order to assist some of Ewell’s men in crossing the Shenandoah River.

Wilcox of Alabama is the major-general appointed over us, but he cannot surpass General Pender, who commanded us at Gettysburg. Pender was an officer evidently superior even to Hill. He was as brave as a lion and seemed to love danger. I observed his gallantry on the opening of the battle. He was mortally wounded on the first day as the fight was closing.

I have seen letters from some of our wounded who were left at Gettysburg. They are now in New York, and all say they are treated well. I had a chance to remain with our wounded, and, had I preferred to do so, I might have had a very interesting experience. Our chaplain, Beauschelle, was captured and is somewhere in Yankeedom, and I suppose is in prison, as chaplains are now held as prisoners, but he is apt to be released soon.

Our army is in splendid health and spirits, and is being increased rapidly every day by conscription and by men returning from the hospitals. Last year when a soldier was sent to a hospital he was expected to die, but all who come from the hospitals in Richmond now are highly pleased with the treatment they received. The hospital sections set aside for officers are admirably kept.

We get plenty to eat now and I am beginning to get as fat as ever again. Beef, bacon and flour, and sometimes sugar and potatoes, are issued to us. Dr. Tyler and I have obtained twenty pounds of sugar, a fine ham and one-half bushel of potatoes, and we hope to get some apples and make pies, as we have so much sugar. Vegetables are abundant in the country around here, and I succeeded in getting so much black-berry pie to eat recently that it made me sick.

Our regiment is on picket duty to-day. It went on last night. The weather is intensely hot, as hot as I ever experienced in South Carolina, but we are encamped in a fine grove and do not suffer from the heat as we would if marching.

The first chance I have I will send you two hundred dollars. You must buy everything you need, even if calico does cost three dollars a yard and thread one dollar a spool.

I am extremely gratified to hear that you and George are both in such excellent health, and I am glad you had him baptized.

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,
September 1, 1863.

We still remain quiet in our old camp, with no sign of an enemy anywhere. I see no indications of our leaving here soon, but there is no telling. It is unreasonable for us to suppose we shall not have another battle here this summer. Old Lee is no idler; and, if the Yankees do not push a battle on him soon, he is almost sure to push one on them.

A little fellow returned to our regiment a few days ago who had made his escape from the Yankee prison at Fort Delaware. He traveled all the way back at night, and during the day kept safely hidden and rested. He had a most thrilling experience, which was full of just such hair-breadth escapes and wonderful adventures as I used to read about in histories when I was a boy, but which I did not believe at that time. I can believe them all now, for I see just such things occurring with us almost daily.

My new servant, Gabriel, arrived yesterday from South Carolina, and he seems well pleased so far. My brother and I had a great many questions to ask him about home. Billie is just like he used to be—fond of making fun of people. He wanted to know if Gabriel kissed Malinda when he left her, and he joked him about a great many things. Gabriel bought a watermelon in Richmond and brought it to us. It is the first one we have tasted in two years.

I got a new pair of shoes from the Government for six dollars. Billie’s shoes are good yet, because I lent him a pair of mine to march in, and he wore them out and saved his own. Marching on these turnpike roads is very hard on shoes, and our army becomes barefooted in a short time.

We are living just as well as we could wish. I bought a bushel of potatoes yesterday, and we have plenty of meal, some flour, one ham and some rice.

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,
September 16, 1863.

For two or three days we have been expecting another fight, and we had three days’ rations cooked and were ready to move. It now appears that the Yankees have all gone back and that they sent only their cavalry forward. We have a very strong position here, and it is doubtful if they will advance this way. I am inclined to think that we shall soon begin to maneuver for the autumn campaign. It is reported that Longstreet’s Corps had orders to move, and it was thought that it would be sent to the Army of the West. A part of it has gone off somewhere, and some of Ewell’s troops were also moving recently.

Two men will be executed in our division next Saturday for desertion, and the entire division will be ordered out to witness it. I have never cared to witness a military execution, although I have been near enough several times to hear the report of the guns. Two men deserted from our regiment two nights ago, and, if we get them again, and this we are apt to do, they are sure to be shot. There is no other way to put a stop to desertions.

We have a large number of preachers here now from home, who are preaching to the soldiers, and we have religious services in camp almost every day.

Lieutenant-Colonel Hunt’s wife is here to see him. Many others—wives of privates as well as officers—have come to visit their husbands. I think this is a very unsuitable place for women. If a battle should occur unexpectedly, they would all be in a nice fix.

My furlough has not been returned, but it has not had time, and it would also be delayed by the “rumpus” that the Yankees have just stirred up. I do not hope to have it approved now, but I am very apt to get home before Christmas. I have nothing more to tell this time, so good-by to you and little George.

MILITARY EXECUTIONS

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,
September 27, 1863.

We had nine more military executions in our division yesterday—one man from Thomas’ Brigade, one from Scales’ and seven from Lane’s. Colonel Hunt was a member of the court-martial which sentenced them, and he tells me that one of the men from Lane’s Brigade was a brother of your preacher, and that the two looked very much alike. He said he was a very intelligent man, and gave as his reason for deserting that the editorials in the Raleigh Standard had convinced him that Jeff Davis was a tyrant and that the Confederate cause was wrong. I am surprised that the editor of that miserable little journal is allowed to go at large. It is most unfortunate that this thing of shooting men for desertion was not begun sooner. Many lives would have been saved by it, because a great many men will now have to be shot before the trouble can be stopped.

We have been having some cavalry fighting recently. On the 23d the enemy were threatening to flank us, and our division was moved about six miles up the Rapidan River, but we soon returned to a place near our old camp. We have heard nothing of General Meade for the last few days, but we all expect soon to have a battle.

I must close, as a doctor has just come for me to go with him to assist in dissecting two of the men who were shot yesterday.

A STRATEGIC MOVE

Camp near Rappahannock River,
Culpeper County, Va.,
October 20, 1863.

This is the first chance I have had to write to you since we started on our autumn campaign. We have succeeded in maneuvering Meade entirely out of Virginia, as you must have already learned. The infantry did not have much fighting to do at any time on the entire trip, but the cavalry fought a large part of the time. Two North Carolina brigades became engaged with the enemy late one afternoon near Bristow Station, and our side got rather the worst of it. It was all due to the miserable management of General Hill or General Heth, or possibly both of them. The next morning the Yankees were gone, as they did not dare give battle to General Lee.

We have had a pretty hard time of it for the last few days on account of so much rain. It made the marching extremely disagreeable, but I stood the trip well, and enjoyed the best of health. To-day the weather has cleared and it is bright and pleasant.

We have destroyed the railroad between Manassas and this place, so the Yankees cannot advance by that route again this winter, and I am sure the Army of Virginia will do no more fighting this year. Some part of it is sure to be sent somewhere soon, and our corps might go to Tennessee after resting a few days, or it might possibly be sent to General Bragg.

The part of Virginia through which we have marched has been totally devastated. It is now nothing but one vast track of desolation, without a fence or a planted field of any kind. I do not understand how the people exist, yet they do actually continue to live there. They are intensely hostile to the Yankees, and there is certainly no submission in them. If the people at home, who know nothing of the war, but who are always criticising the bad management of our general, could see these lofty-minded Virginians, who have lost everything but their proud spirit, they surely would hush and try to do something for their country.

Camp near Rappahannock River,
Culpeper County, Va.,
October 28, 1863.

There was a cavalry fight across the river yesterday, and I am told that we whipped them and took three hundred prisoners. We have been taking so many prisoners recently that we must be up with the Yankees again, or we may even have more of them in prison than they have of our men. We now have no prospect of a fight on a grand scale, and I suppose we shall go into winter quarters before much longer.

Old Jim Beauschelle, our chaplain, is out of prison and is back with us again. He was at Fort Delaware awhile, and was then sent to Johnson’s Island in Lake Erie. He looks better than I ever saw him. He has a new hat, new shoes, and everything new, and looks like a new man. He speaks very highly of the Yankees and the way they treated him and of the good fare they gave him. He seems perfectly delighted with the North and the Yankees. I am sorry they did not handle him rather roughly and cure him of his wonderfully good opinion of them.

Your brother tells me you look better than you did before you were married. He says George is badly spoiled and that he will cry if you crook your finger at him. I am sorry to hear that he has been sick. In your letter you speak of his being pale and thin from teething.

I now feel quite sure that I shall be able to get home before much longer, but don’t look for me until you see me walk in.

RETURN FROM A FURLOUGH

Richmond, Va.,
December 17, 1863.

I was delayed about ten hours at Charlotte, N. C., and did not arrive in Richmond until seven o’clock this morning. The weather was very agreeable for traveling and I had no trouble with my trunks.

I ate but once out of my haversack the whole way here. My appetite was gone, for the death of our dear little George, together with parting from you in such deep grief, made me sadder than I ever felt before in all my life. The heaviest pang of sorrow came upon me when I entered the train to leave. Since my arrival here the excitement of the city has revived my spirits somewhat. I visited both houses of the Confederate Congress to-day and saw Colonel Orr and others from our State, and also the distinguished men from other States.

I have no fear that there will be any trouble about my staying over my furlough. Had I remained at home a week longer not a word would be said. I shall go on to Orange Court House to-morrow and will write you a longer letter when I reach our camp.

THE SEVERE WINTER

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,
January 3, 1864.

The cars ran off the track below Gordonsville yesterday, consequently we have no mail to-day. You do not know how anxious I am to hear from you. Your letters relieve the distress of my mind like a soothing balm placed upon a painful wound. I am sure I could forget the loss of our dearest earthly object much sooner if I could only be with you; but time will blunt the keenest thorns of anguish. I shall walk over and see your brother this evening if he does not come to see me before then. He was quite well when I last saw him, and had been busy repairing the roads.

The weather remains intensely cold, but the wind has abated somewhat to-day. I think yesterday was the coldest day I ever experienced, and it was made worse by the strong biting wind which blew incessantly. It is most severe on the wagoners and others who are out and exposed so much. When I saw the First South Carolina Regiment starting off on picket yesterday morning in the bitter cold I felt for them, but they seemed full of the life and vigor which the troops of Lee’s army always display under the most trying circumstances.

I gave my old black coat to my brother. It fits him well and he is very much pleased with it. He has been keeping a chicken and it is now nearly grown, so we intend to have a big dinner soon, and will make a pot of dumplings and also have stewed corn and Irish potatoes.

I have been living in the same tent with Dr. Tyler. We slept together and were very comfortable, but I got a tent for myself yesterday and will have a chimney built to it and be ready to move in by the time he gets back. He and I are good friends and always get along very agreeably together, but he is too fond of drinking and gambling to suit me.

News is very scarce here now, and it would be difficult for me to write you a longer letter.

SCARCITY OF FOOD.

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,
January 16, 1864.

The army is filling up with conscripts, absentees and others, and if we get also the principals of the substitutes our army will soon be very formidable. Mose Cappock has returned, although his wound has not quite healed. I believe if we whip the Yankees good again this spring they will quit in disgust. Their cause is not just, like ours, and they are sure to become discouraged more readily.

The people of Richmond have had a great time recently, feasting and fêting General Morgan. Men who saw him there tell me he is very young, handsome and attractive, but is modest and has a most pleasing address. I learned that when he passed through Newberry the people made him come out of the train and let them all take a good look at him.

An officer in our regiment was cashiered for forging a furlough, sure enough. I feel very sorry for him and think he should go to the Yankees the first chance he gets, for he is ruined wherever this thing becomes known.

The winter has been unusually severe so far, but I am perfectly comfortable in every way, except that our diet is becoming anything else but bountiful or extravagant. We draw a little coffee and sugar occasionally. For breakfast this morning I had a cup of “Pure Rio,” some ham, rice, biscuit and butter, but I have a hankering for such things as syrup, sweet potatoes, sauer-kraut, and the like. I do hope it will not be a great while before I can have such things.

Edwin still has some of the good things to eat which he brought from home in his trunk. His servant, Tony, stole some of his syrup to give to a negro girl who lives near our camp, and Ed gave him a pretty thorough thrashing for it. He says Tony is too much of a thief to suit him and he intends to send him back home. I had to give Gabriel a little thrashing this morning for “jawing” me. I hate very much to raise a violent hand against a person as old as Gabriel, although he is black and a slave. He is too slow for me, and I intend to send him back by Billie when he goes home on furlough.

I must close, as Gabriel is bringing in my dinner. I will write to you again in a few days.

A BOX FROM HOME

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,
January 30, 1864.

The weather has been fine recently and there have been some indications of a move. Yesterday we were ordered to cook one day’s rations and be ready to march, but it has turned very cold to-day and everything is quiet again.

About ten days ago I succeeded in buying some turnips and cabbage, and I found them most delightful for a change until our box from home arrived. Everything in it was in excellent condition except the sweet potatoes. It contained ten gallons of kraut, ten of molasses, forty pounds of flour, twelve of butter, one-half bushel of Irish potatoes, one-half peck of onions, about one peck of sausage, one ham, one side of bacon and some cabbage. I am expecting Edwin to visit me to-morrow and I shall offer him part of the kraut and some of the molasses, but he is so independent I am afraid he will not accept it.

I saw Colonel Hunt’s wife yesterday, and she is the first lady with whom I have conversed since my return in December. He pays ten dollars a day board for himself and wife at a house near our camp.

Dr. Tyler has had his furlough extended twenty days by the Secretary of War, and will not return before February. I have been alone for over four weeks. I have had such a quiet time that I have been reading Shakespeare some recently. I received a letter from Robert Land’s wife begging me to give her husband a sick furlough, and I told him to write her that if he could ever get sick again he certainly should go at once.

The postmaster is here and I must close.

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,
February 8, 1864.

The Yankees advanced to the Rapidan River yesterday and we were ordered off to met them. After some little fighting, they retired. It was evidently nothing more than a reconnoitering party of cavalry. To-day everything is quiet.

Billie and I are enjoying our box immensely—especially the sauer-kraut. Edwin was over again yesterday. He has been over three times this week. I am just as comfortable in every respect as I could possibly wish to be. The health and spirits of everybody seem to be excellent.

I had my hair cut to-day and I feel quite cool about the head. I am sending you the soldier’s paper which I take, and you will find it interesting. We have such a dearth of news that I do not know of one thing worth relating.

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,
April 19, 1864.

We are still in camp, but yesterday we received an order to send back all surplus baggage and be ready to move at any time. No doubt we shall soon have a very interesting time of it and the papers will then be full of news.

General Longstreet’s army is at Charlottesville. He may come here or go to the peninsula. That of course will depend on circumstances. All the news we received yesterday was very encouraging. The capture of Fort Pillow by Forrest was excellent for us. Gold is now 179 in New York, but if we whip Grant we may send it up to 300 for them.

I was glad to hear that old Jim Beauschelle was at our home. My father is decidedly hostile to the preachers who stay at home and preach to the women and old men, but I know he treated Beauschelle like a prince. If you see a certain widow, you might take the liberty of teasing her a little about old Beauschelle. She sent him some nice warm articles of clothing recently.

I have just finished my breakfast. I had corn bread, meat, molasses and coffee. Such a meal is first-rate for soldiers, but if the same were offered me at home I should feel like turning up my nose at it.

Orange Court House, Va.,
May 4, 1864.

We are still in our old camp. It may be some time yet before we have a big fight, although it can’t remain off a great while, for the weather is fine and the roads are good.

Dr. Tyler leaves this morning for Richmond, and Dr. Kilgore will not come; so I am alone. I have very little to do, as there is scarcely any sickness. If we get into a battle soon I will have a tight time, but I hope to have someone with me before then.

The impression prevails that General Lee intends to act on the defensive this time. It is said that he is full of confidence. If the Yankees take Richmond it will be after they are cut to pieces. I can’t believe they can ever possibly take it with this army opposed to them.

We had a pretty shower a few evenings ago. A considerable storm accompanied it and tents were blown about, but mine stood up through it.

My servant, Alick, is making a great deal of money washing for the soldiers.