Part 7 (1/2)
II
_Was.h.i.+ngton, Feb. 2, 1864._ DEAREST MOTHER--I am writing this by the side of the young man you asked about, Lewis Brown in Armory-square hospital.
He is getting along very well indeed--the amputation is healing up good, and he does not suffer anything like as much as he did. I see him every day. We have had real hot weather here, and for the last three days wet and rainy; it is more like June than February. Mother, I wrote to Han last Sat.u.r.day--she must have got it yesterday. I have not heard anything from home since a week ago (your last letter). I suppose you got a letter from me Sat.u.r.day last. I am well as usual. There has been several hundred sick soldiers brought in here yesterday. I have been around among them to-day all day--it is enough to make me heart-sick, the old times over again; they are many of them mere wrecks, though young men (sickness is worse in some respects than wounds). One boy about 16, from Portland, Maine, only came from home a month ago, a recruit; he is here now very sick and down-hearted, poor child. He is a real country boy; I think has consumption. He was only a week with his reg't. I sat with him a long time; I saw [it] did him great good. I have been feeding some their dinners. It makes me feel quite proud, I find so frequently I can do with the men what no one else at all can, getting them to eat (some that will not touch their food otherwise, nor for anybody else)--it is sometimes quite affecting, I can tell you. I found such a case to-day, a soldier with throat disease, very bad. I fed him quite a dinner; the men, his comrades around, just stared in wonder, and one of them told me afterwards that he (the sick man) had not eat so much at a meal in three months.
Mother, I shall have my hands pretty full now for a while--write all about things home.
WALT.
Lewis Brown says I must give you his love--he says he knows he would like you if he should see you.
III
_Was.h.i.+ngton, Friday afternoon, Feb. 5, 1864._ DEAREST MOTHER--I am going down in front, in the midst of the army, to-morrow morning, to be gone for about a week--so I thought I would write you a few lines now, to let you know.
Mother, I suppose you got my letter written last Tuesday--I have not got any from home now for a number of days. I am well and hearty. The young man Lewis Brown is able to be up a little on crutches. There is quite a number of sick young men I have taken in hand, from the late arrivals, that I am sorry to leave. Sick and down-hearted and lonesome, they think so much of a friend, and I get so attached to them too--but I want to go down in camp once more very much; and I think I shall be back in a week. I shall spend most of my time among the sick and wounded in the camp hospitals. If I had means I should stop with them, poor boys, or go among them periodically, dispensing what I had, as long as the war lasts, down among the worst of it (although what are collected here in hospital seem to me about as severe and needy cases as any, after all).
Mother, I want to hear about you all, and about George and how he is spending his time home. Mother, I do hope you are well and in good spirits, and Jeff and Mat and all, and dear little California and Hattie--I send them all my love. Mother, I may write to you from down in front--so good-bye, dear mother, for present.
WALT.
I hope I shall find several letters waiting for me when I get back here.
IV
_Culpepper, Virginia, Friday night, Feb. 12, 1864._ DEAREST MOTHER--I am still stopping down in this region. I am a good deal of the time down within half a mile of our picket lines, so that you see I can indeed call myself in the front. I stopped yesterday with an artillery camp in the 1st Corps at the invitation of Capt. Crawford, who said that he knew me in Brooklyn. It is close to the lines--I asked him if he did not think it dangerous. He said, No, he could have a large force of infantry to help him there, in very short metre, if there was any sudden emergency. The troops here are scattered all around, much more apart than they seemed to me to be opposite Fredericksburg last winter. They mostly have good huts and fireplaces, etc. I have been to a great many of the camps, and I must say I am astonished [how] good the houses are almost everywhere. I have not seen one regiment, nor any part of one, in the poor uncomfortable little shelter tents that I saw so common last winter after Fredericksburg--but all the men have built huts of logs and mud. A good many of them would be comfortable enough to live in under any circ.u.mstances. I have been in the division hospitals around here. There are not many men sick here, and no wounded--they now send them on to Was.h.i.+ngton. I shall return there in a few days, as I am very clear that the real need of one's services is there after all--there the worst cases concentrate, and probably will, while the war lasts. I suppose you know that what we call hospital here in the field is nothing but a collection of tents on the bare ground for a floor--rather hard accommodation for a sick man. They heat them there by digging a long trough in the ground under them, covering it over with old railroad iron and earth, and then building a fire at one end and letting it draw through and go out at the other, as both ends are open. This heats the ground through the middle of the hospital quite hot. I find some poor creatures crawling about pretty weak with diarrhoea; there is a great deal of that; they keep them until they get very bad indeed, and then send them to Was.h.i.+ngton. This aggravates the complaint, and they come into Was.h.i.+ngton in a terrible condition. O mother, how often and how many I have seen come into Was.h.i.+ngton from this awful complaint after such an experience as I have described--with the look of death on their poor young faces; they keep them so long in the field hospitals with poor accommodations the disease gets too deeply seated.
To-day I have been out among some of the camps of the 2nd division of the 1st Corps. I have been wandering around all day, and have had a very good time, over woods, hills, and gullies--indeed, a real soldier's march. The weather is good and the travelling quite tolerable. I have been in the camps of some Ma.s.sachusetts, Pennsylvania, and New York regiments. I have friends in them, and went out to see them, and see soldiering generally, as I can never cease to crave more and more knowledge of actual soldiers'
life, and to be among them as much as possible. This evening I have also been in a large wagoners' camp. They had good fires and were very cheerful. I went to see a friend there, too, but did not find him in. It is curious how many I find that I know and that know me. Mother, I have no difficulty at all in making myself at home among the soldiers, teamsters, or any--I most always find they like to have me very much; it seems to do them good. No doubt they soon feel that my heart and sympathies are truly with them, and it is both a novelty and pleases them and touches their feelings, and so doubtless does them good--and I am sure it does that to me. There is more fun around here than you would think for. I told you about the theatre the 14th Brooklyn has got up--they have songs and burlesques, etc.; some of the performers real good. As I write this I have heard in one direction or another two or three good bands playing--and hear one tooting away some gay tunes now, though it is quite late at night. Mother, I don't know whether I mentioned in my last letter that I took dinner with Col. Fowler one day early part of the week. His wife is stopping here. I was down at the 14th as I came along this evening, too--one of the officers told me about a presentation to George of a sword, etc.--he said he see it in the papers. The 14th invited me to come and be their guest while I staid here, but I have not been able to accept. Col. Fowler uses me tip-top--he is provost marshal of this region; makes a good officer. Mother, I could get no pen and ink to-night.
Well, dear mother, I send you my love, and to George and Jeff and Mat and little girls and all.
WALT.
Direct to care of Major Hapgood as before, and write soon. Mother, I suppose you got a letter I wrote from down here last Monday.
V
_Was.h.i.+ngton, March 2, 1864._ DEAR MOTHER--You or Jeff must try to write as soon as you receive this and let me know how little Sis is. Tell me if she got entirely over the croup and how she is--also about George's trunks. I do hope he received them; it was such a misfortune; I want to hear the end of it; I am in hopes I shall hear that he has got them. I have not seen in the papers whether the 51st has left New York yet. Mother, I want to hear all about home and all the occurrences, especially the two things I have just mentioned, and how you are, for somehow I was thinking from your letters lately whether you was as well as usual or not. Write how my dear sister Mat is too, and whether you are still going to stay there in Portland avenue the coming year. Well, dear mother, I am just the same here--nothing new. I am well and hearty, and constantly moving around among the wounded and sick. There are a great many of the latter coming up--the hospitals here are quite full--lately they have [been] picking out in the hospitals all that had pretty well recovered, and sending them back to their regiments. They seem to be determined to strengthen the army this spring to the utmost. They are sending down many to their reg'ts that are not fit to go in my opinion--then there are squads and companies, and reg'ts, too, pa.s.sing through here in one steady stream, going down to the front, returning from furlough home; but then there are quite a number leaving the army on furlough, re-enlisting, and going North for a while.
They pa.s.s through here quite largely. Mother, Lewis Brown is getting quite well; he will soon be able to have a wooden leg put on. He is very restless and active, and wants to go round all the time. Sam Beatty is here in Was.h.i.+ngton. We have had quite a snow storm, but [it] is clear and sunny to-day here, but sloshy. I am wearing my army boots--anything but the dust. Dear Mother, I want to see you and Sis and Mat and all very much. If I can get a chance I think I shall come home for a while. I want to try to bring out a book of poems, a new one, to be called ”Drum-Taps,”
and I want to come to New York for that purpose, too.
Mother, I haven't given up the project of lecturing, either, but whatever I do, I shall for the main thing devote myself for years to come to these wounded and sick, what little I can. Well, good-bye, dear mother, for present--write soon.
WALT.
VI
_Was.h.i.+ngton, March 15, 1861._ DEAREST MOTHER--I got a letter from Jeff last Sunday--he says you have a very bad cold indeed. Dear Mother, I feel very much concerned about it; I do hope it has pa.s.sed over before this.