Major Wilder Dwight: October 7, 1861

Pleasant Hill, October 7, 1861,

Camp near Darnestown.

“Turn out the Guard, Officer of the Day!” Such has been the salutation with which again I am greeted this Monday, on my rounds through the brigade. Our field-officers are off on leave of absence, and every third day brings this duty with it. Colonel Andrews has gone off to Washington to see about his appointment. We all hope most strongly that he will not accept it. Indeed, the fear that it was coming has quite depressed me of late. The Colonel is so decidedly the backbone of our enterprise, that I cannot bear to think of losing him. Though I suppose there are some who would have the charity to suppose that I would welcome promotion. But I think that no one ever received an appointment with less of gratified ambition, or will take a promotion, if come it must, with less exultation. The fact is, I foresaw trial and responsibility, and did not crave it. I also deprecated unwon laurels and insignificant titles. Something to work up to is not just the thing. Though, after all, if one could succeed in really growing to the position, he might well be proud.

It is eleven o'clock, — a damp, rainy, cheerless night. I shall soon go forth on my rounds. The season and surroundings are favorable to maudlin reflections, and I fear I am falling into them. The next letter I write I will write in glad sunshine and broad day; not in the flickering twilight of a wind-troubled candle; but to-night you must take me after sundown. Still, I have cheerful topics. The enemy must soon move or we must, and so the briskness of enterprise is near. Bull Run has given McClellan the liberty to wait as long as he pleases without interference, but he cannot mean to lose October. As for Fremont, I wish him well for Howard's sake; but the man lacks the one thing we want now, — success. Good reasons for failure are not popular, though they may be undeniable

As to stockings for the regiment, we are not barefoot, but stockings do wear out easily, and a regiment uses a great many, and the government supplies slowly. Do not, however, give yourself up to shirts or stockings.

Here it comes, raw and gusty, and pouring torrents. Well, let it rain. I think I must give up my grand rounds though, and, as it is damp and cold, I will bid you a cheerful good night, and hope for a bright morning.

It is not so bright a morning after all, but I must be off to Hyattstown, to act on a board of survey; and so good by.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 111-2