Major Wilder Dwight: October 4, 1861

pleasant Hill, October 4, 1861,

Camp near Darnestown.

I am sitting up to-night, as field-officer of the day, awaiting the hour of twelve, when I make my grand rounds. You may, perhaps, take a half-hour of my tediousness. I wrote a note from Washington. I found William had chosen me a horse, which, though peculiar to look at, was clever to go. In the cheerful phrase of the woman of Kannesch, “II ne sait pas êtra joli mais il est bon.” William told me he had written for Charley to come on to his regiment. I hope Charley has already started. He will learn more in a week in camp than in a month at home. Give him my love, and advice to push on for camp with a few good warm clothes and a copy of Tactics.

Noboby seems even to guess at McClellan's plans. It is against my principle to believe in anything except human fallibility. Taking it for granted that McClellan belongs to the human family, and that he has got an awful work before him, and not seeing evidence of his doing anything in particular, I must say, my impatience gets the better of my hope now and then. For instance, when I see Meigs advertising for gifts of blankets! Why, are the whole government asleep? If not, why have they not prepared for a winter campaign? The roll of the seasons is a phenomenon of peace. That, surely, has not taken them by surprise.

Again, the redundancy of brigadiers disgusts me. What room have they left for distinction to those who win glory in the fight. These antecedent laurels cheapen the very warmest incentive to a soldier's sacrifices.

But enough of croaking. Though, before I leave it entirely, is not Fremont's fizzle in Missouri enough to make a saint's amiability feather, at least, if not absolutely sour? When is the luck to turn? I am writing in the stillness of an almost summer evening, and have got my head full, as you see, of thoughts that are fruitless.

I rode back to camp yesterday, and found no end of work awaiting me. Among other things, I am detailed on a board of survey to estimate the damage done to private property in our army's progress from Harper's Ferry to this place. As I am one of those who do not believe in paying anything, I am, I suppose, a good officer for the post. The burdens of war ought, for the most part, to rest where they fall. At any rate, these lukewarm, disloyal citizens deserve nothing but the strictest justice.

Colonel Gordon is now in command of a brigade, and he is acting the reformer and reviver with great spirit and effect. Indeed, it is cheerful to see the progress our regiments are making in discipline and drill. The Second Massachusetts is the example and standard for the others. General Banks, standing on the hill near his head-quarters, said to a gentleman in my hearing yesterday, “That,” pointing to our camp, “is the best and neatest camp on the continent.” Words, I believe, of truth and soberness. My visit to Washington tended to satisfy me with our regiment. Good night. I must go out upon a tour of sentinel inspection, which will last till three o'clock in the morning. A soldier's life is always gay.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 109-11