guard-tent, Second Regiment, Camp Hicks,
Near Frederick, Md., 3½ A. M., Dec. 25, 1861.
Dearest Mother,
— It is Christmas morning, and I hope it will be a happy and merry one for you
all, though it looks so stormy for our poor country one can hardly be in a
merry humor.
I should be very sorry to have a war with England, even if
we had a fine army, instead of a pack of politicians for officers, with their
constituents for rank and file; and all the more so, of course, thinking that
we shall have to take many “whoppings” before we are worth much. War isn't
declared yet, but doesn't it look very much like it to every one at home? Here,
we have made up our minds that we shall have much more soldiering to do than we
expected when we started. I think we may as well consider ourselves settled for
life, if we are to have a war with England!
My Christmas-eve has been very much like many other eves
during the last six months. On the whole, I have passed quite a pleasant night,
though what our men call the “fore-part” of it was principally occupied in
taking care of two drunken men (one of them with a broken pate), and in tying a
sober one to a tree. After this was over, I did a good deal of reading, and,
towards one o'clock, A. M., had some toast and hot coffee, — having previously
invited my sergeant to take a nap, so that I might not be troubled by hungry
eyes, and made to feel mean, for there wasn't enough to give any away. The
drummer (who with the sergeant of the guard, for some reason which I never
discovered, sits and sleeps in the officers' tent) kept groaning in his sleep;
and I couldn't help imagining that his groan always came in just as I took a
bite of toast, or a large gulp of coffee. This diminished my enjoyment; and
when he suddenly said, “Martha, there isn't any breakfast!” I was certain that
my proceedings were influencing his dreams.
It began to snow about midnight, and I suppose no one ever
had a better chance of seeing Santa Claus; but as I had my stockings on, he
probably thought it not worth his while to come down to the guard-tent . I didn't
see any of the guards’ stockings pinned up outside their tent; and indeed it is
contrary to army regulations for them to divest themselves of any part of their
clothing during the twenty-four hours. .
. . Merry Christmas and love to all.
SOURCE: Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Editor, Harvard
Memorial Biographies, Volume 2, p. 196-7
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