Headquarters 1st Division,
Battery Island, June 25th, 1862.
My dear Mother:
I have received your kind letters with their urgent requests
from both you and Lilly to be present at the great affair which is to take
place in July. How I would like to be there, you can well divine, yet the fates
never seem to favor my leaving my post. With all quiet in Beaufort I had my
hopes, with all in turmoil here my chances seem but small, and yet there are
some who have not been half the time in the service I have, who have visited
their homes once, twice, and are now going home again. That is a sort of luck
some people have, a sort of luck which does not favor me. Yet there will be a
time I suppose when it will be pleasant to remember I was never absent from
duty, though I cannot see that strictness in such respects is held in any
special honor now. You must tell Lilly I will think of her with all a brother's
feeling of love, when the day comes. I will see that I am properly represented
at the table which bears her marriage gifts. I will dream of the orange flowers
that bind the brow of the bride and will wish them — the bride and groom — God speed. I will wish them a brave career,
and will rejoice that they do not fear to face the future together. I have no
patience with that excessive prudence which would barter the blessings of youth
and happiness and love, for some silly hope of wealth, and the happiness wealth
can give to hearts seared with selfishness and avarice. If misfortunes come,
will they be heavier when borne together? And are men less likely to prosper
when they have something more than themselves for which to toil? And when one
man and one woman are brave enough to show they have no fear, but are willing
to trust, "Bravo!" say I, "and God grant them all that they
deserve."
My coat and pants have come. All very well, only the coat is
about six inches bigger round the waist than I am. There are tailors around the
camp though who can remedy so excellent though rather ungraceful a fault.
I have had a letter from Hall lately, who seems quite happy.
On this island, dear Mother, there are secret, hidden, insidious foes which
undermine one's happiness. We are truly in the midst of enemies which give no
quarter, whose ruthless tastes blood alone can satisfy. Now I am not alluding
to the human "Seceshers" — they are only mortal — but the insect kingdom.
What a taste they have for Union blood! Mosquito bars are useless. They form
breaches, and pierce every obstruction imagination can invent, when they once
scent Union blood. Flies march over one in heavy Battalions — whole pounds of
them at a time. Mosquitoes go skirmishing about and strike at every exposed
position. Sandflies make the blood flow copiously. Fleas form in Squadrons
which go careering over one's body leaving all havoc behind. Ticks get into
one's hair. Ants creep into one's stockings. Grasshoppers jump over one's face.
You turn and brush your face. You writhe in agony. You quit a couch peopled
with living horrors. You cry for mercy! — In vain. These critters are
"Secesh." They give no quarter. You rush wildly about. You look for
the last ditch. Until utterly exhausted you sink into unrefreshing sleep. Then
begins a wild scene of pillage. Millions of thirsty beings, longing for blood,
drink out one's life gluttonously. Enough! Why harass you with these dismal
stories?
Benham has been sent home under arrest. The last thing he
did on leaving Hilton Head was to lie. He doubtless has not discontinued the
practice since.
My love to Mary and Lilly, the little boys (how I would like
to see them), and all my dear friends. I have been several times with a flag of
truce to the enemy, concerning our prisoners in their hands. In all these
interviews I heard of Sam Lord. I wished to see him very much, but permission
was not granted. I was allowed, however, to write him concerning Miss Alice
Mintzing's welfare. The Colonel of his Battalion — Lamar — was badly wounded in
our late engagement. Genl. Stevens has mentioned me handsomely in his official
report of the fight, but he has done the same to all his staff.
Very affec'y. your
Son,
Will.
SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters
of William Thompson Lusk, p. 160-2
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