Camp Washington, July 7th, 1861.
Dear Dora:
I received your letter a few days ago, and take this evening
to write you a few lines, urging and entreating, that you may all look upon our
affliction as patriots, not selfishly mourning over our untimely loss, but
regarding it as a sacrifice made upon the altar of our country, which we ought
to congratulate ourselves that we could furnish. Poor Dick went into the war
like myself, not to regard himself or our friends, but to serve our country in
this the time of peril. I know your Ma and Mary will all be too good soldiers
to grudge giving to your country the dearest sacrifice that you could provide.
Yours is the good fortune to be called upon to provide so great an offering. —
His country has lost the services of a brave man with a strong arm, which he
proved upon her enemies in losing his life. As he has ever won praises from
them for the greatest bravery they ever saw, you all (and I mean this for you
all) do not know what a weight it would take from me to know you bore our loss
like soldiers. I had rather it had been myself. He was younger and had one more
tie to break than I. But seeing him through the time of his prostration from
his wounds, I know that he felt that he was but losing his life in the cause of
duty, and seemed entirely resigned, not desponding at the doubts which he knew
there existed of his life. We all believed a part of the time that he would recover;
at one time he thought so too. But the exposure without attention for several
hours upon the battle-field so prostrated him as to make it hard for reaction
to take place, which kept him from having any appetite. He lived until the
eighth day, suffering very little for one so cut to pieces.
He was buried with all the honors of war, and never was
greater respect paid to the memory of one man; it was indeed a triumph of his
bravery. I had him buried in a beautiful cemetery in Romney; and should I live
through the war, I will have him moved to Fauquier. Mine has been the heaviest
loss. I lose the strength of his arm in the fight as well as the companion of
my social hours. I mean to bear it as a soldier, and not as one who in this
time for sacrifices regards only his own loss. You must all try to bear it in
the same way. Let it be your boast that you have given a brother for the safety
of your country and the preservation of your homes, and Ma that she has given a
son for such a cause as ours. When men die as he has died, (and as he prepared
to die), for liberty, it shows our enemies that we cannot be conquered. It
saves the lives of many
* George is well and sends his love to his wife. Our
movements from here are not yet determined. I may not write often, but should
there be anything the matter will do so at once.
Yours truly,
Turner Ashby.
SOURCE: James B. Avirett, The memoirs of General Turner Ashby and his Compeers, p. 113-5
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