camp Near Seneca, November 10, 1861,
Sunday Evening.
I have had a quiet Sunday. Colonel Gordon's sudden
resolution to snatch a visit home has left me alone with the regiment. On the
whole, I don't mind the care, though my shoulders are young to it. A little
knapsack-drill keeps a soldier in marching order, you know, and so of an
officer. There are a good many things to call for care and thought just now in
the regiment. The care of our sick; the selection of a good camping-ground in
place of our present over-damp site; the problem of keeping warm when air and
ground seem heavy with chilliness; the maintenance of drills and discipline
when so many of our officers are absent or sick, — not more than half being now
present for duty, — these are a few of the considerations that vibrate the
pendulum of my thoughts. I have just been out to tattoo, and so, as my “little
family” is put quietly to bed, I am free to write, read, or sleep, as I
choose. Another rainy day yesterday, and the pleasant sun of to-day looked as
if he were breeding clouds for to-morrow. So is November on the Potomac. If the
news is half true from the fleet, why may not a turn of fortune embark us for
some Southern shore, and give us a short cut to the tropics?
Tell father that he happened to send me just the book I
wanted, — Halleck's. I fancy it is a clear statement of some things it would be
well for a major to bear in mind. Our day has been regular and quiet. Of
course, my only purpose is to keep the machine in the same running order as it
now is. . . . .
SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and
Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 140-1
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