Headquarters 1st Brig.
1st Div. 9th Army Corps,
Sept. 22d, 1862.
My dear Mother:
Heigh-ho! I do wish I could hear from home. We are promised
a mail to-day, but I am not certain if my letters will reach me. I get piles of
papers which travel down to South Carolina, make the tour of half the
continent, and finally inundate me with news eight or ten weeks old; but the
letters — where do they go to? I asked Genl. Burnside's Postmaster this
question the other day. “Why let me see” was his answer, “there were some
letters for you. I remember the name. Its a queer sort of a name. Now where can
they have gone to?” Consolatory, was it not? Here I am full of anxiety, and no
relief. However most of us here stand on the same footing. We are resting now
from past labors, near the mouth of Antietam Creek where it empties into the
Potomac. This rest is indeed grateful to us all, for we were pretty well
exhausted, ridding Maryland of its invaders. The rest can't last long though, I
suppose. If possible I am going to abandon the immediate pursuit of arms, and
return to medicine. Dr. McDonald, Surgeon of the 79th, urges me very strongly
to accept the position as his 2nd assistant, and has well-nigh persuaded me
that I could do more good in that position than anyone he would be apt to get
elsewhere. I would like this first-rate, but how to accomplish the transfer
from Brigade-Adjutant to Asst. Surgeon? The Government is not very obliging in
these matters, and it is too difficult a thing to work, for me to hope much. I
have a pretty good time now — am not too much pressed with work. The Col.
commanding the Brigade treats me with flattering consideration, and I believe
myself generally respected and beloved in the Brigade. I am not consequently
very unhappy, am rather jolly than otherwise. Still I feel neglected, and have
abandoned anything like military aspirations. It is vain to refer to long
service, or to the estimation in which I have been held by commanding officers
as shown on the records of the Division from the first. I cannot but feel that
had I stayed at home until these last levies were raised, I might have held a
much more responsible position than my present one. I have abandoned in future
all care or thought of promotion, and content myself with doing simply and
purely my duty. Now my precious mother, if I am querulous, don't let it trouble
you. I do not mind it myself. I only write as I do to show you how it is that
my feelings have so changed since we parted. You can remember how indignantly I
repulsed every suggestion as to my entering the army in connection with the
medical service, and yet would very gladly do so to-day were it in my power. As
for the rest, not being one of your grand and gloomy geniuses oppressed by a
sense of their own merits, and the world's want of appreciation of them,
although occasionally exercising a soldier's privilege to grumble, I contrive
to keep up my spirits, like a Mark Tapley in the township of Eden. Bother! I
would like to see you all. Master Turly must wear breeches with pockets in
them. Master Will has doubtless grown large enough to bully smaller boys than
himself. (Such things are possible my dear sister Mary, though I grant the
improbability in this particular case). Lilly and Tom have grown staid and
domestic. Walter can hear the heir-apparent talked about without blushing. Both
the Ellens make charming young mothers. The old house, Hunt and Mary, and then
my mother thinking of an absent scapegrace who now sits in his shirt-sleeves,
having laid aside his shabby war-worn regimentals, and wants to be remembered
lovingly by all his friends! Oh bother!
Affec'y.,
Will. Capt. & A. A. A. G.
SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters
of William Thompson Lusk, p. 209-11
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