CAMP AT WESTON, August
11, 1861.
W. K. MILLER, ESQ.,
DEAR COUSIN: — Your letter dated the 6th inst. was received
this morning and its contents perused with pleasure. Although it did not come
to hand as early as expected, yet "better late than never." We are
encamped at Weston, a small town in Western Virginia of about eight hundred
inhabitants, and looks as if it might have once been a village of some stir and
vitality, but since the war broke out it has buried all its vital parts in
oblivion. Our regiment is scattered all over the State of Virginia. Five
hundred of them are with the Seventh Regiment under Colonel Tyler now marching
to Galley Bridge, one hundred on their way to Sutton, and others scattered here
and there, all over the hills and valleys, of the "Old Dominion
State." Three hundred of us remain here as a guard and I can tell you we
are doing the thing up "bravely," yea "heroicly." We have
entire possession of the town. The other night, some of the Twenty-third
Regiment, while out on "picket" some two or three miles from camp
guarding a bridge en route for Sutton, and lying in ambush around it,
returned in the morning possessed of quite a "scary" story, which
they related. The substance was as follows, that while out in the darkness of
night, when all was calm and quiet as the sea on a still summer's day, a
strange noise was heard about the above named bridge and on its roof was the
pattering of stones, distinctly heard; this was a terrific, appalling report,
and preparations were made to catch the rebels. On the following night, four of
us volunteered to go out and catch the "seceshers" if possible.
Accordingly we started out about dusk led by a certain lieutenant of our
regiment. It would have done you good to have seen the above lieutenant
prodding the thick bushes with his gilded sword, fancying to himself that he
saw the hideous monster in the shape of a rebel. Ah, — the ambitious officer
was disappointed; instead of sticking a secesh, he without doubt stuck a skunk.
We came to this conclusion from the fact that a strong smell, a venomous smell,
instantly issued from the bushes. We imagined a great many strange things to
appear before us, but all proved to be shadows instead of realities. We at last
arrived at the hitherto "scary" spot, stationed ourselves, and it was
my lot to be placed in a cornfield by the roadside. I stayed there until
morning, cocked my old musket, and was almost in the act of shooting a number
of times, when the strange vision would disappear and on examination would
discover a piece of fox-fire, an itinerant "hog," or a lost calf,
which had undoubtedly wandered from its mother in its infantile days. We
returned in the morning, sleepy, tired, and not as full of romance as the night
before. Enough of this. We have a very nice place for encampment, on one of
Virginia's delightful hills and surrounded by the Western Branch of the
Monongahela River. We have some fine times bathing in the above river. We are
under the strictest military discipline and nothing is allowed but what is
guaranteed by the army regulations. Your kindness, Cousin William, is highly
appreciated by me in offering me anything that I need; this tells me that I
have a place in your affections and in answer would say that I would like
papers as often as you can conveniently send them. We cannot get papers here
but seldomly. As to postage stamps they are very hard to get, but think I will
receive some in a few days, and as to money I have none, but can get along
without it until Uncle Sam pays us off. When that will be I do not know. We may
have to leave here very soon, but I think it hardly probable. I received a
letter from Annie a few days since, and was glad to hear from her. I presume
she will soon be with you from what she writes.
I must bring" this letter to a close, as the hour for
duty is fast approaching. I want you to write me often and direct as follows: —
Weston, Lewis Co.,
Va.
Co. E, 23rd Regiment,
O.V. Inf., U.S.A.
Care Capt. Zimmerman.
With this direction all letters will reach me. Give my love
to Sarah and family. Write soon.
Yours truly,
WM. McKINLEY, JR.
SOURCE: Charles Sumner Olcott, The Life of William McKinley, Volume 1, p. 29-32
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