Near Petersburg, Va. Jan. 10^th 1865

 

Dear Charles,

                        I have long been waiting till I should have time, and be in the mood, to write to you; and these requisites being combined in as high a degree, as probably they will be, this rainy afternoon, I will try to answer your two letters which I received in November, with no great interval of time between them. It is not always easy here to write when you wish to; let that explain my apparent neglect of you. Your letter interested me much; let me have another such with a chronicle of events and deeds in Saco & Portland in the last two months, of which there must have been a number of some importance. We were in a fort during most of the month of November; this is the third time we have camped expecting to have winter quarters without moving till spring, and the third time "goes", (as they say,) I hope in this case. Have been here since the middle of December. You may think / I have found considerable time for writing to Portland, but remember I have written frequently in making requests for money and in acknowledging the receipt of the same: so don't think yourself slighted. I had much rather lie talking with you up in your chamber of a night or morning, than writing from a distance, for it would be pleasanter besides much easier. As that is impossible, have to content myself with the only alternative remaining.

 

So you go home Sundays to sing nowadays? As I was telling Caroline the brigade band is my only source of good music; but the other night my friend Bennett brought in an old Scotchman of his company, who proved himself an amusing specimen of the inferior order of bards, by telling us at least one new anecdote of the poet Burns, with others we had heard, but most of all by his recitations and songs which in the matter and the delivery were laughable. One reminded me of the little pig song in Mr. Lowell's book over which you, Fred and Sophia used to have / such times. Some weeks since a rogue was drummed through the camp, and I heard the famous March for the first time. Get fred to chant "Poor Old Robinson Crusoe" and you will have some idea of it.

 

I heard a more solemn tune last week Friday. Our Division had to attend the execution of a deserter. Three sides of a square were formed of the troops, two ranks facing two more some feet distant, thus making a road with two right angles; e.g.— [diagram, like a U with "road" inscribed] a line representing a rank. Through this the culprit was driven sitting on his coffin surrounded by his guard and executioners, & preceeded by the band playing the Dead March. It to me was like weeping and sobbing of one in pain, only intensified. The culprit, who was willing to endanger the lives of so many then assembled about him by the act for which he was to suffer, was an ordinary looking man and hardly appeared like a person on the eve of quitting the world. How noticeable little acts are at such a time! Very careful I thought him when / he blew his nose over the side of the cart. As the cart and procession moved on, his life kept narrowing down, the bank playing till they reached his grave. The coffin was placed before the grave, and after the chaplain had finished his duty & shaken hands with the man, and the Provost had blindfolded him and what mockery! shaken hands also with him, the word was given, he received the fire as he sat on his coffin and fell backward, heels remaining in air. Not satisfied that some life did not remain in the man, who merely gave one groan as he went over, a man was ordered up from the guard and directed to fire where the Provost pointed. Then the troops were march by the corpse and the thing was over. It did not make so lasting an impression as I had imagined it would He who sees everything in "this show" has something to tell, if he could remember all his experiences on his return to civil life. This might be termed uncivil(ized) life.

 

What of Gordon and Littlefield and Ernery, are they exercised about the draft? Don't come if you can help it, and I don't want you with me any way, to be plain. I should be anxious all the time, as a man told me he was when his brother was with him here. What do you think of Sophia's courage in going off alone to Baltimore to a hospital. To get this off today I must now answer the call of the mail man. Write fine as you please; I read it easily. Obliged to you for your offer of assistance if I get hurt. Write whenever you feel inclined and I will gladly receive and try to answer. You might tell Miss Fisher if you see her now, that Jimmy Lowell is a good nurse man. Tell me all about Hat Chase &c. Yours affectionately William L Gemit

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