CAMP NEAR MEMPHIS, Nov.
11, 1862.
My Dear Wife:
My life is now in comparison to what it has been somewhat
monotonous, though full of daily incidents that a year ago would have been
excitement enough for any one, a circumstance then that would have caused
comment for a month, is now passed over without a second thought. Last night
one of my pickets shot a soldier of the 6th Missouri who was attempting to
escape from guard. He was a splendidly formed man, and as I looked at him this
morning, stripped for washing before burial, shot directly through the body
with one of our large Minie-balls, and saw the little unconcern of all about
him — even he who shot him — I began to realize better than ever before how
valueless human life has become; within an hour the man was buried out of sight
and the thing quite forgotten.
It is Indian summer weather, and were it not for the dust,
different from anything in my experience in the way of dust, would be
delightful; I am in the saddle the greater part of the time and keep three
horses pretty well tired down. I never thought I could ride so much without
fatigue. Last Friday I was Officer of the Day and rode all day until eleven
o'clock at night, came back to camp, changed horses, made the grand round and
did not dismount till half-past five o'clock in the morning. That day I rode
twenty-two and a half hours out of the twenty-four, and then taking only an
hour's nap, reported for duty. I know I rest better in the saddle than in the
chair, and almost as well as lying down.
I think I shall be in good trim for a winter campaign. We
shall take the field probably in about three weeks. The other day the field
officers of our brigade surprised General Sherman by calling in a body and
presenting him with sword, sash, belt, etc. — presentation and acceptance very
affecting. We were all together at the plains of Shiloh. After presentation
invited him to wine supper at hotel; speeches, talk, etc., and a good time
generally. Mrs. Sherman, with the General, called upon me this morning, and
indeed just left as I sit down to write. She is a very pleasant woman; the more
I see of her the better I like her. She often comes to my camp and both she and
the general are very hospitable to me; indeed, I believe I eat at their table
oftener than at my own. There are several ladies residing not far from my camp,
and one in Memphis, with whom I have become acquainted, and at whose house I
often visit. It is agreeable to me, as I mess quite alone.
There was a grand Union demonstration in the city yesterday —
a procession and the theatre thrown open, and girls dressed in white and
mounted on a car to be dragged through the streets and one representing a
goddess of liberty, who ought to be chained to a rock and kept there the
balance of her days, and a grand band and flags fluttering, and speeches made
from the stage by distinguished citizens and military men, and a hurrah, and
the General with his staff and me on his right hand, caprioling and cavorting
through the streets and standing on balconies, with waving hats and dancing
plumes and brass buttons glittering in the sun, and new uniforms covered with
dust and other free soil, and many little ragged boys and small girls with
unkempt hair and the backs of their gowns gaping wide, and “the Union, it must
be preserved,” and General Washington, looking like a superannuated ass with
his ears cropped close, and “Esto Perpetua” and “flag of the free heart's hope
and home,” and divers other strange devices, all done up in white cotton and
carried about on sticks by sundry patriots at the remarkably low price of two
dollars a day and whiskey thrown in, and a major and invited guests and the
presentation of a Star Spangled Banner, long may it wave, by patriotic ladies
of Memphis to Union Club, and all the rest of it done up in a rag after the
approved style of Plymouth Rock, and the 4th of July and the 8th of January,
and Washington's birthday. Vox populi, vox Dei.
SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of
Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 247-8
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