Camp near Belle Plains Virginia

January 1^st 1863.                                

           

My dear Addie,

                        I have already written 3 letters this evening (on Company affairs entirely) and having sufficient time to write one more thought I could not better begin the new year than by writing to you. It has been anything but a happy one to me, for beside being absent from my family on what is generally a holy day with us, the first death that has occurred in my Company since its organization, has cast a gloom over us. The man (who died this morning about 8 o'clock) was not of my own enlisting but was one of the transferred. He was a perfect wreck when he joined us. Intemperance had unfitted him for the service, although he had never been under the influence of liquor while with me. His name was Daniel Kendricks and at one time, of quite a reputation as a painter. He has a brother a livery stable keeper in 11^th St above Race. The poor fellow had been for some time in the hospital, but had been turned out for want of room. He wandered about after us, while we were on the march, always turning up a short time after we would encamp, until I at length applied for his discharge from the Army on account of his entire worthlessness, and should have received his papers some 4 weeks ago, but some one in office neglected the matter, and his discharge never arrived in camp, until today about an hour after his death. He had become so filthy in his habits that none of the men would give him a shave in a tent and he had been sleeping out by the fires for some weeks. Last night I had a stove box arranged for him to sleep in. During the night he was quite delirious, and when I first saw him this morning I knew he was dying and before we could get him to the hospital, he died in his box. I regret the matter exceedingly, for doubtless some of the Regiment not knowing the peculiarities of the case will censure me for neglect, but there is not a man in my Company who has had more if as much attention than poor old Kendricks. The fact is my dear, we are compelled to steel ourselves against the dread of witnessing the sufferings of the sick and dying men around us, for we have naught to relieve the one nor smooth the pangs of the other. God pity the sick in camp! A sinner need suffer in no other purgatory for punishment. We buried the body at sunset this afternoon. I had a pine coffin made for it and the Chaplain read the usual service and made a few remarks regarding the life of the man so far as he was acquainted with it. The man was a complete outcast, not recognised by his family I believe, and from the manner of his death and burial (although the latter was a very solemn scene) I could but think of the refrain of the old song

                                               

"Rattle his bones over the stones

He's naught but a pauper whom nobody owns"

 

I have just written to his brother of his death and burial. 

 

And now to something more pleasant. I recd your Christmas favor while on picket, day before yesterday. We have been on duty 3 days returning yesterday afternoon. The cheerfulness expressed did me a world of service, as I was much worried about you, not having heard from you, since you had heard of the battle. I am greatly pleased at the good fortune of yourself and the little ones and am more than ever indebted to your kind relatives and to Capt. and Mrs. Loudy for the many kindnesses extended to me and mine. I can truly appreciate all that is done, and trust that the opportunity will be offered to evince my gratitude in the most decided manner. I can assure you my dear a soldier needs all the consideration that can be bestowed upon himself and family. Cut off from all intercourse with his nearest and dearest ties, he would be but a sorry fellow did he fear they were neglected. You read editorials of the "glory that awaits the brave", of "the enthusiasm of the Army", and "their wild desires to be led to the field" and all that but many find a different state of affairs when once in for it. Now let me give you an instance. The 3 days I was on picket I had, to eat, crackers, cold beef and pork, running out of beef the first day, and out of pork the second, leaving me 1 day on nothing but crackers and coffee. I was alone with the Company, as Lieut Saylor is "acting Quartermaster" (who is absent) and Lieut Logo was detailed with the Camp Guard. We were on duty one day longer than we expected. I came home nearly famished, sent over to the Brigade Commissary for provisions and found he had nothing to eat and so had to live one more day on crackers and coffee. So we are, one day plenty, the next, nothing. Our bill of fare to day was, Breakfast—fried crackers and coffee—Dinner, boiled rice and molasses, supper, boiled potatoes and raw onions and coffee. Now you may not think that boiled potatoes and raw onions are luxuries, but I assure you with us they are, and we are to have fried potatoes for breakfast tomorrow. Think of that! A feast for the Gods! Never, I know, could they have more enjoyed their nectar or ambrosia, than will we them fried, that is if nobody hooks them before morning, a loss that frequently occurs.

 

                        We had our quarterly inspection and muster yesterday afternoon. The Col seemed satisfied and so of course are we. Now I hope pay day will come, as we will get 4 months, but of that I do not wish to speak much, as we are completely sick of waiting for him. Never mind dear the day will come, and your pile will come. I will send Pop Loudy's on the same time I send yours. You make a remark about my commission being dated 1^st September. I do not know the reason, but all the Officers are in the same box. Some of the work of the War Department. But it makes a difference of  $100 nearly to me.

 

                        We have marching orders—to start on 12 hours notice, but do not of course know where we are going. Various rumors are afloat, none of which can be depended upon. Some say to Washington, others to North Carolina, others, that we are to cross the Rappahannock again. These camp rumors we call "Chin", I presume because of the wagging the retailing of the news causes that feature to make.

 

                        You think it a dreadful state of affairs about Frank Gillingham's wife do you? I don't—it is the result of their fooling, that's all. And if people will fool, they must take the consequences. We have done it, in our time— / and Roly and Amy are the results of the experiments. But I do not think that Frank and Tacey can produce such satisfactory results as we have—nous verrons. You see I have not yet quite forgotten all my education in foreign languages.

 

                        Lieut Saylor has not improved much yet in health. His cough troubles him much. I wish he was better. Logo is completely well again and attending to duty. He is sitting by me toasting crackers, a favorite amusement with him. He does punish the U.S. Army rations fearfully. It is pretty cold down here but we have a fire in our trench, inside the tent, and manage to keep comfortable. But I wish they would move us for wood is growing scarce in these parts. It don't take long to clear off 100 or 200 acres of woodland when you have some thousands of axes at work. But I must close as it is growing late, and I am sleepy. Tell Roby, Pop will send him a big Christmas present before long, and kiss him and Amy over and over for me. I hope he enjoyed the party and kissing the girls. don't allow him too much dissipation. Give love to all the folks, for nothing else have I just now to give. Enjoy yourself over your novel, and believe me

                                                                       

Your devoted husband

Andy

 

7 o'clock A.M. Friday—The potatoes are all right. Fizzing gloriously in the mess pan. The crackers are being fried, and the coffee is simmering away nicely. The cook is weeping over the onions he is peeling for breakfast. All continues well, and I hope "the country is safe"

SOURCES