Marietta, Ga., Sept. 6, 1864.

 

My Dear Mother:

                        One week has elapsed since my last letter home, my scarcity of stamps explaining so long a silence. I had hoped to receive a letter from home meanwhile, but owing to irregularity in the mail, have failed to do so. Our Chaplain formerly stopped our mail for us here, but the 16^th Corps P.O. is now removed elsewhere, so that now my letters go on to the Regiment. I have but two stamps left. How shall I get more? There is but one way. As soon as you receive this write me a letter immediately and enclose five or six stamps, and then direct it simply, Geo. R. Gear, Marietta, Georgia, (In care of Christian Commission). I notice that they have a box at their rooms, where they receive letters directed in this way and distribute / them to their owners. I shall not probably leave the Hospital before I can receive an answer, inasmuch as an attack of diarrhea has weakened me down again considerably.

 

            No doubt ere this you have received the great news: Atlanta is ours; and I presume that perhaps you know more of the particulars than we here in Marietta. The place is full of wild reports of great successes on our side, all of which I take with due allowance. This much only I allow myself to believe: There has been brilliant generalship on the part of Sherman, and hard fighting which has resulted in victory for our side. And to cap the climax they were compelled to evacuate Atlanta quite hastily. I might give you many flying rumors of our occupation of the city, but I do not think it worth while. The supplies are being rapidly removed from this place, and the Quar- / termasters and railroad men are moving their things also. Soon Marietta will be no longer our base of supplies, but merely a Hospital depot.

 

            Thanks be unto God for this great new victory to our arms. With His continued blessing upon our efforts I trust that final victory will crown our cause with success ere many more months have rolled by.

 

            The last I heard from our Corps it was at Jonesboro, 27 miles south of Atlanta on the Macon Road. Where they are now I know not.

 

            But I must close. I hope Mr. Wheeler, the raiding rebel, will be so kind as not to delay either this letter or its answer, by any operations of his. If he will do so, I will appreciate the favor conferred. And by the way, this reminds me that I probably did have a letter destroyed a few days since. / A car load of mail was burned, I have not heard here, whether by accident or guerrillas. I was expecting a letter from you just about that time, but it failed to come.

 

            Write immediately on receiving this.

                                               

Your aff. Son,

George.

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