Camp Tompkins, October 21, 1861.
Monday morning before
breakfast.
Dearest: — Dr.
Clendenin goes home this morning and I got up early to let you know how much I
love you. Isn't this a proof of affection? I dreamed about you last night so
pleasantly.
The doctor will give you the news. I see Colonel Tom Ford
has been telling big yarns about soldiers suffering. They may be true — I fear
they are — and it is right to do something; but it is not true that the fault
lies with the Government alone. Colonel Ammen's Twenty-fourth has been on the
mountains much more than the G. G—s [Guthrie Greys], for they have been in town
most of the time; but nobody growls about them. The Twenty-fourth is looked
after by its officers. The truth is, the suffering is great in all armies in
the field in bad weather. It can't be prevented. It is also true that much is
suffered from neglect, but the neglect is in no one place. [The] Government is
in part blamable, but the chief [blame] is on the armies themselves from
generals down to privates.
It is certainly true that a considerable part of the sick
men now in Cincinnati would be well and with their regiments, if they had
obeyed orders about eating green chestnuts, green apples, and green corn. Now,
all the men ought to be helped and cared for, but in doing so, it is foolish
and wicked to assail and abuse, as the authors of the suffering, any one
particular set of men. It is a calamity to be deplored and can be remedied by
well directed labor, not by indiscriminate abuse.
I am filled with indignation to see that Colonel Ewing is
accused of brutality to his men. All false. He is kind to a fault. All good soldiers
love him; and yet he is published by some lying scoundrel as a monster.
I'll write no more on this subject. There will be far more
suffering this winter than we have yet heard of. Try to relieve it, but don't
assume that any one set of men are to be blamed for it. A great share of it
can't be helped. Twenty-five per cent of all men who enlist can't stand the
hardships and exposures of the field if suddenly transferred to it from their
homes, and suffering is inevitable. Love to all.
Affectionately,
R. B. Hayes.
Mrs. Hayes.
SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and
Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 121-2
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