Headquarters First Division, Ninth Corps,
Near Washington, June 26, 1865.
Why shouldn't I send you a few lines this rainy afternoon,
to tell you where I am and what doing? I was very sorry not to see you before I
came away, but you had gone out of town. I got my orders Friday afternoon, and
left two P. M. Saturday, — rather a short time in which to break up a seven
months' camp. I was not able to see any one, of course; but good-by now was a
much less serious matter, and more easily omitted, than it was seven months
ago. I hope you and your wife are out of town by this time, enjoying fresh air
and exercise.
I am rather pleasantly situated. I am commanding the First
Division of the Corps. My headquarters are in a lovely oak grove, a few (2½)
miles out from Georgetown, on the Tenallytown Road, the old Rockville Pike which
we knew of old. I am just a little off the road, in tents. I prefer sleeping in
a tent, although there is a very good house near by at my service.
The temperature out here under these trees is a very
different thing from the fiendish heat of that wretched town that consists of
the President's house and the Capitol. I was there a week before I came out
here, and it nearly killed me.
My Division lies up the road towards Tenallytown — three
brigades, well situated for water, slope, and air. One brigade is commanded by
a brigadier, the other two by colonels. I found the command in rather a slack
state of discipline. No attention paid to guard-duty or drill. It is natural
that men should feel, now that the war for which they enlisted is over, that
there is no further need of discipline, and that the strict performance of
guard-duty any longer is needless. (I only name guard-duty as one of the points
by which you judge of a regiment's “breeding” and efficiency.) In this they are
rather encouraged by a certain class of officers, — you well know what I mean
if I say the Le Barnes school, — and this feeling of expectancy and uncertainty
about getting mustered out is prejudicial to discipline.
I had all the regimental and brigade commanders here the
other night, and gave them a lecture of an hour and a half. You would have
smiled to see me laying down the law, surrounded by about twenty of these old
birds. I fancy it woke them up, for I have been pleased to see a marked change
for the better already.
It seems funny to be here on this old road, in command of a
Division, where I marched up under your baton not many months ago on foot. I
intend to ride up to Poolesville as soon as the weather is a little cooler, if
we remain here, and going over to Ball's Bluff and Leesburg. I wish you would
come out and go too.
Charlie Whittier and Macy were over to see me the other day.
Whit is the same fair boy as ever. I suppose the Army of the Potomac will be
dissolved soon; an order will soon be out mustering out “veterans,” which will reduce
it very much.
Miss Jennie Turnbull proposes to convert me from my dislike
to Washington, so that I shall never want to go away from here after a little
while. I should like to “give odds” on it.
Dear Frank, this isn't a very satisfactory letter. There are
many things that I have to talk with you about.
Remember me to all yours. Let me have a line from you when
you have a spare half hour, and believe me,
Always yours,
Frank.
SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William
Francis Bartlett, p. 150-2
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