#5

In Camp near Corinth, Miss.

Sept. 14, 1862.

 

My Dear Sister:

                        Your letter of the 8^th reached me here this morning, and very grateful it was too. I had not heard from home for nearly three weeks, although I had anxiously waited for a letter now for two weeks. I finally came near giving up all hope of getting letters from home, and it did not surprise me upon the arrival of each mail to hear the word "Nothing for you". The only way that I could account for the non-receipt of a letter was by the supposition that letters had probably been sent by Mr. Rice and that he had been detained in Cincinnati.

 

            You will see that a different place gives date to this letter from the one that I last wrote from. We are at a / distance of 20 miles from Iuka, and about 4 miles from Corinth. Now let me tell you a little about

 

The March.

            Thursday evening last we received orders to prepare three day's rations, but as there are so many orders of that kind that never result in a march, we did not think much of it. But about 9 o'clock as we were just beginning to settle ourselves to repose came the order "Strike tents". Immediately every thing was bustle and preparation, and within a short time where there had been a pitched encampment not a tent was to be seen. The glimmering lights, the dimly seen forms of the men as they hurried to and fro, the confused hum of voices,—all these conspired to make a scene as strange to me as it was picturesque. By about 11 o'clock everything was packed ready for the march, when we lay down and rested until about 3½ o'clock in the morning. Then we were aroused, and after about half an hour's / waiting off we started. Our knapsacks were carried in the wagons; from this you may think that our load was not heavy: but you must recollect that we still had a gun, a heavy saber bayonet, 50 rounds of cartridges, a haversack with three days rations, a canteen, and a blanket. Well, how did I stand the march. For about 6 miles the road was through a pleasant woods, but then one came out upon an open space and marched in the sun about 3 miles. The sun struck down with fervid heat, and soon it began to tell on me. Finally we came to a long hill. I toiled part way up, but before we reached the top I was compelled to betake myself to the roadside and lie down. The Regiment halted at the top of the hill, and rested. I felt somewhat refreshed and marched with the Reg't again when they started. On we marched again for about 3 miles, when again we toiled up a big hill under the broiling sun. The We again halted at the top, and again I / was completely exhausted. We rested about 2 hours for dinner, and a short nap refreshed me somewhat. Again we started, and I marched about 2 miles, when Nature refused to sustain me any longer, and I dropped by the roadside. The Surgeon then gave me a place in the ambulance, and I rode for some distance, until I became somewhat refreshed. Then I gave up my place to another, and leaving my gun, etc., in the ambulance I again started on the walk. I managed to crawl along until about 7 o'clock when we encamped for the night, but it would have been impossible for me to go farther. The water which I drank no doubt partly contributed to my state of exhaustion; but I was careful, and drank as little as possible. We obtained our water from the runs that we passed along the road and some of it was far from good. But the main thing that tended to exhaust me was the intense heat of the sun, and the dust. I have heard old members of the Regiment say that they have been on no march that has tried them more, although they have marched farther in a day. More than one old soldier did not come up to the Regiment until the next morning. So thus ends my first experience in marching, and a pretty severe one it has been too He who enlists as a soldier expecting to find it play work will find himself sadly mistaken.Yesterday we moved forward about a mile and a half and encamped in the woods where we now are. I am yet quite sore from the effects of my march, but I think that I shall be able to stand it better the next time. How long we shall stay here is uncertain. We are not allowed to pitch our tents, but hold ourselves in readiness to march at a moment's notice. /

I began writing this letter with a lead pencil, not knowing that we would be allowed to take out our knapsacks long enough for me to use my ink; but since I began the wagon has gone out for forage, and I then took to ink.

 

            I might tell you a tale about the number of troops here, but from fear lest this letter might possibly fall in to the hands of the secesh I for bear. Suffice it to say we are by no means alone.

 

            It is Sabbath to-day, but I was utterly unconscious of the fact until I asked some one the day of the week and was told it was Sunday. The march completely threw me out of reckoning, and there is certainly nothing in my surroundings to remind me of the day. The extent to which wickedness prevails in the army is truly appalling. But although some have failed, there are others who have stood the test manfully, and brought no disgrace upon their profession. Yet we / feel the need of religious services and of a good chaplain greatly. As for myself, I think that I have found as much consolation in the hope which I entertain of acceptance with Christ as I ever have in my life. I feel that I am in the path of duty and if death either by sickness or battle meets me there, I can face it calmly. I find it very consoling when I sometimes get a little down hearted to roll off all anxiety concerning myself and friends at home, and to feel that whatever may come, "He doeth all things well". I would like to be at home in the old church to-day, but it is impossible. I find that in the lack of religious influences and exercises it requires great watchfulness and prayerfulness to live aright, but I trust that through God's grace I may be kept pure.

 

            But I must close I have received no papers from home. Is the postage on them paid when sent; if not they will not come. Tell mother that I especially want the Examiner. The Register I generally see here. Tell the folks to write often and do so yourself. A letter here is like an oasis in the desert. The last letter that I wrote to mother was a rather blue one. I have now recovered from my diarrhea. Tell mother that if there is any possible chance to procure and send that gum blanket I spoke of, not to fail to do it. Direct your next letter to Corinth, and Gen. Stanley's Division, instead of Rosecran's Rosecrans is in charge of a much larger number of troops than merely our brigade.

                                   

My love to the folks at home.

                                                           

Your brother,

George.

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