This week in the Civil War

The war began to hit home in early 1862; many areas remained safe from the turmoil of actual battle, yet loved ones left behind began receiving news from their lonely soldiers at the front lines. On both sides of the conflict, men had eagerly volunteered during the war’s opening stages in 1861. With a campaign season behind them, and the confines of winter camp providing far too much time to ponder, thoughts turned homeward and pencils struck any remnant of paper available as soldiers wrote of their daily experiences. Duty prohibited most from visiting their wives, children, parents, and friends at home, so a letter would have to fill the void. A note did not risk charges of desertion.

Edward Broughton of the 7^th Texas Infantry, stationed near Hopkinsville, Kentucky, attempted in a January 4, 1862 message to his wife, to explain the sudden absence of his letters. Broughton, while suffering from illness (as so many soldiers endured while encamped during the winter of 1861/62 - experiencing exposure to disease from other soldiers - a state made worse through the insanitary camp conditions) lamented “…I have been puny for the last month. I was attacked with bilious fever and was confined to my bed for twenty days…I am almost reduced to a skeleton, 110 pounds…I am weak as a child.” Other members of the 7^th Texas struggled through the Bluegrass winter as the measles claimed 15 members of the regiment. Broughton illustrated the devastation of camp sickness when stating, “The health of my company has been very bad…all the other companies have lost men…about ninety in our regiment have died, all for the want of proper care.” Mid nineteenth-century medicine had little to no knowledge of germs or how they spread. If a soldier proved fortunate enough to avoid a foe’s minié ball, or an artillery blast of canister, he still faced the threat of death by illness. For every soldier killed on the field of battle during the American Civil War, two died of disease.

John Groseclose with the 8^th Virginia Cavalry penned a January 1862 letter to his sister. Stationed near Spencer Court House in Virginia, Groseclose, after apologizing for not writing sooner, inquired about the welfare of other family members. “Have you heard from bro. Henry since the last fight at Louisa? Is he or any of the Highlanders killed or wounded? I am very anxious to hear the particulars. I have not heard from Pa since I left; hope he is improving.” Groseclose served with the Smyth Dragoons, a company which formed in Smyth County during July 1861.

Loved ones on the home front became frustrated as the time between letters from the front increased; this void also impacted the soldiers. An occasional newspaper (one often days or even weeks old, yet cherished just the same), a devotional tract, or a dime novel proved poor substitutes; letters from home emerged as the favorite reading material for soldiers blue and gray. When the frequency of information from home failed to meet their expectations, many quickly made their frustrations known, as evidenced in a letter from John Shropshire with the 5^th Texas Cavalry to his wife. “We arrived at this place [Fort Bliss, Texas] on the 1^st Jan and much to my disappointment I did not receive a letter from you. Our mail has come in since we have been here & no letter for me from you. I should think you could write me at least one letter per month. If you know how thankfully your letters are recvd you would not be so sparing of them.” As Shropshire closed his plea, he evidently learned of his regiment’s imminent deployment, so he sealed with an ominous tone. “Good bye, write to me if you please. It may be months before I hear from you again. God bless you & my boy. I wanted a letter before I left.”

Napoleon once remarked, an “army marches on its stomach.” Warren Freeman, a soldier with the 13^th Massachusetts Infantry, quantified this maxim in a letter to his father written while posted near Williamsport, Maryland. Freeman boasted, “Just finished my dinner; had beefsteak and rice, not cooked as mother would have done it, but nevertheless it was quite good.” In an attempt to assure his loved ones of his continued well-being, Freeman closed in wishing “…all the dear ones at home a ‘Happy New Year,’ or as a Marylander would express it, ‘New Year’s Gift.’” Heavy hearts gathered around many campfires. Soldiers North and South awaited the 1862 campaign season, while the pickets struggled to focus on the dark shadows in their front, constantly fighting the urge to dream of the next letter from home.