Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, June 10, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. INF.,

CAMP CHEWALLA, MISS., June 10, 1862.

MY DEAR WIFE:

We have marched some fifteen miles beyond Corinth, and in a few moments shall proceed on our march to Grand Junction, some twenty miles from here and on the route to Memphis. I remained in occupation of Corinth three days, and was succeeded by General Halleck, who now occupies the quarters I left. The papers have scandalously falsified, as they usually do, the movements of Sherman's Division. A man in John Groesbeck's regiment claims the rather barren honor of flying the first flag over Corinth, when the fact is that mine, which was the first by two hours and forty minutes to enter the town, had been floating for that length of time. The town was under guard by my troops, and Major Fisher was acting as Provost Marshal (a post from which he was only the day before yesterday relieved) at the time the troops who claimed the credit entered. So much for newspapers, which are a tissue of falsehood and misrepresentations. These things I know you care nothing about, and indeed I would hardly take the trouble to explain except to avoid the absurdity which would attach to my former letters, if you believe the newspapers.

The weather is becoming pretty warm, though the nights continue cool, indeed I may say cold, for two or three blankets are comfortable, and there are no mosquitoes. We do not suffer so much from the wood ticks and jiggers as farther back. I am told that our march will lie through a high and tolerably fertile country, a matter to be much desired. Since our occupancy of Tennessee, all supplies have been scarce, the country people very poor and bereft of everything in the way of eatables. I hardly know what keeps them from starvation. . . . We think the back of the rebellion is broken in the Southwest, but we keep up a constant vigilance, for the foe is insidious. Beauregard's army must have been a good deal demoralized before the evacuation of Corinth, if we may believe the accounts of deserters and prisoners.

I suppose our destination is Memphis. They may make a stand against us on the way. We are looking anxiously for action from McClellan. Our army is the great centre, his the left, and the forces in Arkansas the right wing, and we ought to move forward together. We shall be victorious, we shall conquer, but we shall never subjugate this people. My opinions in this behalf, so often expressed, and more than a year ago, have never changed. They are a people very little understood at the North; their bitter hostility to the North will never change, certainly not with this generation; they have learned to fear us and to hate.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 214-5

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, June 9, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. INF.,

CAMP CHEWALLA, MISS., June 9, 1862.

We are now encamped near a small town called Chewalla, about fifteen miles south of Corinth and near the State line that divides Tennessee from Missouri. But I have just received marching orders for five o'clock to-morrow morning, and as yet do not know our destination. Memphis and Fort Pillow are taken; their army must be scattered; we know it was a good deal demoralized; where they will make a stand is the merest matter of conjecture.

The heat begins to make itself felt, though the nights continue cool. I have had tolerably good health, nothing to worry about. I believe I stand the campaign better than the average of the men and officers.

There is no use, however, to attempt to disguise the fact that a summer campaign in the South must be terribly fatal to our troops. Not that the Northern men are not just as capable as the Southerners, indeed more so, to endure the vicissitudes, but no troops can stand it. We must use fortitude, and do the best we can, — I leave the result with God, in whom I have firm reliance. I am always sustained by thoughts of you and of your prayers in my behalf. I long, oh! how ardently, to see you, but I must not think of it. God only knows what is in the future for us. I could not leave my post; I would not be permitted to do so however strong my desire. I must press on to the bitter end.

You want to know something about me, but I hardly know what to write about. I am sitting in a tent in the midst of dense woods, but near the side of a dusty road, over which regiments are marching, and all towards the South. My soldiers are all about cooking rations, and making other preparations for the march to-morrow. To-morrow night I may probably sleep on the ground, with a saddle blanket, because our transportation train will not be with the regiment, and there is no other way to carry my tent or cot. This will be no inconvenience to me, for I have very often done so, and that in the rain, with nothing but an India-rubber cape over me. I sleep sound with the bridle of my horse in my hand, and am refreshed at daylight. We carry canteens of water and food in haversacks, hard crackers, and salt pork.

We are always on the lookout for the enemy, flankers and skirmishers, and advance guards. Men are prevented from straggling. We march on steadily, halting for a few moments every hour. When we camp, pickets and sentinels are posted, and they who are not on guard sleep sound. Men sleep the soundest in the presence of danger. I have known them to go to sleep on the battlefield. Indeed, I have never known sweeter sleep or more delightful dreams than I have had behind the breastworks of fortifications which we momentarily expected would be stormed, and amid the incessant booming of cannon, bursting of shells, and rattling of musketry.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 212-3

Col. Thomas Kilby Smith to Mrs. Eliza Walter Smith, April 24, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. INF.,

CAMP NO. 8 BEFORE CORINTH, May 24, 1862.

MY DEAR MOTHER:

In the midst of "battle and murder and sudden death," your letter of the 12th inst. is handed me. I snatch a hasty moment to reply. I have waited for many days for the time to come when I might sit down to write you as I would wish, but the hurry of the march, the incessant labor at the breastworks, the din of the skirmish leave no opportunity for writing. I have slept in my clothes with bridle in hand for the past ten days and nights. We are close upon Corinth. Our pickets within sight of the enemy's entrenchments. My troops stack arms behind our own breastworks, and there I bivouac. You must, judging from the slips you sent me, have very meagre accounts of the movements of Sherman's Division. I have asked wife to forward the newspaper intelligence, which is partly reliable, and with which the Cincinnati papers have been filled. Pretty full accounts, I am told, have also been published in the New York Herald, a correspondent of which is with the division, and there also will be found Sherman's and Stuart's reports. Sherman's report is decidedly the best account of the battles of the 6th and 7th, and Stuart's will locate the position of our brigade in the field those days. Many papers published in St. Louis and Chicago and local country papers in Ohio have been sent me in which my name is prominently mentioned, and they have been pleased to compliment me. I am only conscious of having tried to do my duty. Acts of heroism were rife those days, and thousands of brave hearts ceased to beat. I rode many a weary mile over the dead and dying. Some of these days, if we live to meet, I will tell you some of the horrors of that battle. Strange how soon one becomes blunted to horror. How little one thinks of human suffering and death and despair. I could tell you of trenches dug and filled with bodies, packed to lie close ; of gentlemen of the South, whose delicate hands, ringed fingers, and fine linen gave evidence of high birth and position. Twenty, thirty together in one hole; men thrown in head downward or upward, clotted, mutilated, bloody, sometimes a man and horse together, and in the midst of these graves and trenches and the carrion of hundreds of dead horses, I camped for twenty-two days, right on that part of the battlefield which was the very charnel, and right where I halted my brigade on Monday night. From thence our course has been forward; every inch of the ground stubbornly contested by the enemy. We have crossed the State line from Tennessee, and now in Mississippi by regular parallels approach the stronghold of the enemy; for every commanding ridge or hill there is a fight, a skirmish we call it here, and think but little of forty or fifty killed and one or two hundred wounded. . . . It is a terrible war in all its phases. God grant that our beloved country be once again blessed with peace. How little did we appreciate the blessing! how priceless now would be its restoration! You ask for incidents interesting to me. I wish, dear mother, I could gratify you. If I only had memory and a graphic pen I could give you a startling history, something in comparison to which the scenes in Scott and James would seem tame, but my aversion to writing amounts to a mania. I shrink from pen and paper as a mad dog does from water, and save to you and wife, I write ne'er a line to man or woman. I wish I had never learned to write, and could set my seal like the knights of old instead of affixing the signature which has also become distasteful to me. I ought to tell you of some of my night marches when I have been ordered out in rain and utter darkness with my own regiment, unsupported, and with no one to divide the responsibility, and none but a doubtful resident as a guide. How, at the head of my men, with the guide's bridle in one hand and a pistol in the other to shoot him should he prove recreant, I have marched for miles through the pathless and almost impenetrable swamp, my men toiling after me with their cartridge-boxes slung at bayonet point to keep the powder dry. How with clothes wringing wet they have lain in ambuscade till day-dawn right under the enemy's guns without fire or food, word or whisper, till gray dawn, and then making reconnoissance, steal silently back. I could tell you of my charge when my color-guard were all killed, and my standard-bearer swept away by a falling tree, a tree cut sheer off by the solid shot from a cannon; how my gallant horse pressed right through rank after rank and enabled me to rescue my flag; or I could tell how the same gallant stallion (and I thank God he stands now unscathed right near me munching his oats) by three successive leaps bore me right up, not down, a precipice of rock almost perpendicular, and when one could hardly have found foot-hold for an antelope. For the first time in my life on horseback I closed my eyes in fear. Jagged rocks were behind me, a sheer perpendicular wall in front; here and there a fissure where the wild vine caught root. I thought he must have fallen backwards and that I must die ingloriously mangled under him, but with unequalled power and activity he bore me to the top, and there amidst a perfect rain of balls he tossed his head and flung his neigh like a clear ringing trumpet. These things should be for others to tell; it is not mine after I have fought my battle to tell my own story, but alas! there are so many stories to tell that it is hard to find a historian; and one's comrade, in scenes such as these transpiring, has enough to do to take care of himself instead of taking care of another's fame and notes to give it wing. Speaking of fame, I may as well give up the hope of it. This name of Smith, in these latter days, attaches to too many good men and true, to say nothing of the damned rascals who also inherit it. There are four colonels, one a Kirby Smith from Ohio. There is your friend, E. Kirby Smith of Southern notoriety, and now, to cap the climax, I have been brigaded with Morgan L. Smith, the hero of Fort Donaldson. He is a dashing, fighting man, and we have an eminently fighting brigade, the left flank of which I still retain; but a man by the name of Smith might as well attempt to pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon as to win fame. If I figure in the ball, the scribblers attach the feat to Morgan; if he performs some dauntless deed of heroism, I get the glory. But as I have said and written, this is not the war or the field in which to gather laurels; it is unholy, unnatural fratricide. As well might he who has buried his knife in his brother's heart rush forth and exultingly brandish the dripping blade as evidence of good deed done, as he, the executioner of the law (for we are nothing else than executioners sent forth by Government to see the law enforced), offer his trophies, the wrung heart of the widow and fatherless, the ruined plantation, the devastated field, the destruction of the fond hopes of the loving, the ruined patrimony of the unborn, claiming fame, glory, and renown. In sadness and sorrow we draw the sword, the true soldier and patriot sheathes it in the body of the rebel in the same spirit as the patriarch of old offered his son.

But, my dear mother, I must write you of yourself. I received two letters from wife, one acquainting me with your illness, one of your convalescence; but I am grieved and shocked that you should have been so ill. You have been worried about me, and your anxiety has affected your head and brought on those dreadful hemorrhages. I know how prone you are to borrow trouble and always fear the worst; but don't fear for me, dear mother; the same God to whom you nightly pray for me will hear your prayers and the prayers of my wife and children. I have firm reliance upon Him, that He will uphold, sustain, and strengthen me, and bring me out of the conflict unharmed. If it should be my lot to go under — if I should fall, believe me, dear mother, I shall fall with my face to the foe, and then, in the language of the poet who has written the beautiful lines you have sent me, "Yield him 'neath the chastening rod, to His Country and his God."

But banish all apprehensions from your mind. A few years, perhaps a few short months, will intervene when you and I together will join those who have gone before us, when we shall solve the great problem, fathom the great gulf, and relying on the Holy Word of God walk with the loved ones in the paths of Paradise. A little, only a little while, and the battle of life for both of us, dear mother, will have been fought, and, with God's help, the victory won.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 205-9

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, May 19, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. INF.,

CAMP NO. 7 BEFORE CORINTH, May 19, 1862.

Yesterday we were in a sharp engagement. Had thirteen men killed and thirty-five wounded. We were victorious, and drew the enemy from position. My troops are now in battle array, waiting orders. We hear General Pope is hotly engaged on the left wing.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 204

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, May 15, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. INF.,

CAMP NO. 6 IN THE FIELD,

MISSISSIPPI, May 15, 1862.

We are still advancing, counter-skirmishing, and the din of cannonading is by day and night. We are close to Corinth. A great and decisive battle must soon be fought. We have been brigaded a second time. My regiment is now under command of Brigadier-General Morgan L. Smith, and consists of four regiments, the 55th Illinois, Colonel Stuart; the 57th Ohio, under Lieutenant-Colonel Rice, the Colonel being absent on sick leave; the 8th Missouri, and the 54th Ohio. I still preserve my position on the left flank, which gives me my position on the extreme left of the brigade, and as we march by the left flank, the advance of the army, which is a post of honor. The integrity and courage of my command is undoubted, and therefore the responsible trust. My address will now be 54th Regiment, Ohio Volunteers, First Brigade, Fifth Division, Major-General Sherman commanding.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 204

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, May 8, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGIMENT O. V. INF.,

CAMP NO. 5 1N THE FIE1D, May 8, 1862.

I notice the printers make terrible havoc with my name. They call me Kelly, and Kirby, and F. Kirby, and the Lord only knows what else, but I can generally be identified as the Smith who led the Second Brigade on Monday, and that directly under Sherman's eye, and in conjunction with the celebrated Rousseau Brigade. A good many of the local papers up through the country have complimented both the regiment and myself. These, of course, you do not see, but I would advise you to take all of the Cincinnati papers for a while, and look out for official reports of both Sherman and General Stuart. I have not written full details of the battle to you for two reasons. One that I had very little time and one that I thought you would get fuller details through the newspapers. The battle is getting somewhat stale now anyhow. The next one I will try harder.

While I write there is an incessant roar of artillery, heavy siege guns. We made a sortie this morning and had a brush with the enemy's pickets. My Zouaves killed three of them, wounded five, and brought in four prisoners. Our brigade, the Second of the Fifth Division, consisting now of only Colonel Stuart's regiment and mine, is clear in the advance of the whole army and the nearest to Corinth. We heard for two nights the whistle of the cars very plainly. Cannon are playing all the time, and I think a great battle not far off. General Sherman has been made a Major-General, a promotion he well deserves. You must not believe all the newspapers say of him; he is a splendid officer and a most excellent, good man. I have every confidence in him. I sat by his side on horseback for an hour on Monday of that terrible battle while shot and shell, cannon, cannister, and Minieballs rained and rattled all about us. Scores of horses and men killed, and falling so close that the dead and dying piled all up about our horses, his cheek never blanched. He never for a moment lost his coolness. His hand was badly wounded by a piece of shell. He quietly went on giving his orders as if nothing had happened. A few minutes before I joined him he had three horses killed under him. A braver man I never saw, and I saw him in the thickest of it. If you note the official returns, you will discover that the Sherman Division lost a great many more in killed and wounded than either of the other divisions. I had intended to write mother, but have just received orders to get my regiment in marching trim. We go forward, and this time, I think, no halt till we storm the batteries of Corinth. You must make the latter part of this letter do for her. I think of her always, in the still camp at nightfall, on the march, or in the din of conflict her image is always in my heart. I have written very often to her, it is strange she does not receive my letters. She asks for details of my regiment, these she must get from the newspapers. Even they, or those who have written for them, admit my men fought most gallantly. I took three hundred and ninety into the field, of these one hundred and ninety fell killed or wounded. Ask her to search the papers for detailed report General Sherman, and Colonel Stuart, which ought to accompany it. Part of this has been published in the New York Herald. The Illinois papers publish accounts of the 54th. You know, but must write mother, for she, I suppose, has not heard it, that the regiment stood on Sunday under a murderous fire for four hours and a half; that the 55th Illinois and the 54th Ohio with about eight hundred and fifty men were attacked by an entire division, admitted by intelligent prisoners, surgeons, and others to contain nearly ten thousand, with cavalry and artillery, led by some of their best generals; Hardee among the number; that we stood till our ammunition was all exhausted, and then fell back in good order for more; that while standing, we piled the ground with the enemy's dead; that we made two of their regiments break and run, who in running were received on the bayonets of their own men, who forced them back. On Wednesday one thousand five hundred of their dead were buried in one little ravine where they fell. Towards the last and when ammunition got scarce, my Zouaves never fired a shot without drawing a cool bead; and no shot was fired, for we were within less than one hundred yards of them, that a rebel did not bite the dust. We fell back, were reinforced with ammunition, formed a line, and in the rear of the batteries fought till dark. We lay on our arms in the rain and rose to fight all day Monday, and on Monday evening we were in the advance of the army, and the last to stop under orders in pursuit of the fleeing foe. We lay on our arms Monday night, and were in the line of battle again on Tuesday, and on Wednesday we marched forth to bring in thirty-two prisoners.

Individual acts of heroism were performed by men and officers of my regiment that have never been excelled in song or story. There is none to tell the tale for them, and they are too modest to puff themselves. You will not find details, but you will find the main facts in the reports I have spoken of, and these you must hunt up and read. I am considered by my superior officers to have done my duty, and I have their confidence, God has been good in preserving my life.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 201-4

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Mrs. Eliza Walter Smith, April 27 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. INF. U. S. A.,

ENCAMPED ON THE BATTLEFIELD OF SHILOH,

April 27, 1862.

“Backward, turn backward, oh time, — in your flight,

Make me a child again just for to-night.

Mother, come back from the echoless shore,

Take me again to your heart as of yore;

Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,

Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair,

Over my slumbers your loving watch keep,

Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep.”

If there can be, dear mother, a perfect realization of all the dreams of romance in which my youthful fancy ever indulged, that realization is now mine. Imagine me as I lie in my tent, pitched upon a hard-fought battlefield, my tried sword and trusty pistols at my head. I look through the fly at three as gallant horses as ever sniffed the breeze, picketed close at hand; just beyond them the encampment of my regiment, a band of devoted followers, all of whom, if actions speak fairly, worship me, every one of whom has been ready to rush to death at my bidding, whose ranks have been fearfully thinned, but still contain as true hearts and strong arms as ever did or dared on battlefield. My flag that fluttered while thousands of bullets were aimed at it, that came from the conflict unstained with dishonor, still ripples in the balmy air of this lovely day. I have a great deal to make me exultant, but oh, if I could only roll back the tide of time for one moment, if I could only be a little child again with your hand upon my brow, if you could only take me again to your heart as of yore, how gladly would I exchange all the pomp and circumstance of glorious war!

We shall have another great fight, though the delay has been disastrous to us. We ought to have followed up the flying foe on Monday night. We had them then beyond all doubt. They have been heavily reinforced since, and are very stubborn. At the rate we are going on, this war will last twenty-five years, and will cost the North the lives of a million of men.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 198-9

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to his sister Helen, April 14, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REG1MENT O. V. I.,

CAMP SHILOH, TENNESSEE, April 14, 1862.

MY DEAR SISTER:

Well, my dear Helen, the great fight has been fought; I have had my part in it, and, save a slight scratch not worth mentioning, have come out safe. The papers, of course, teem with accounts, which you have doubtless read until you are satisfied; but, at the risk of stale news, I will give you my experience of the battle, of which I believe I saw as much as “any other man.”

On the Thursday preceding, my command had been ordered upon a most fatiguing night march, which lay for six miles through a dense swamp to a point near a ford, where we lay for some hours in ambuscade for the purpose of taking a body of rebel cavalry. On Friday we marched back to camp. On Saturday, nearly the whole regiment was turned out on fatigue duty to build some bridges and a road to cross artillery, and on Saturday night I was ordered to hold my command in readiness for an expedition to march as early as eight o'clock on Sunday. All this service was intensely fatiguing to the officers and harassing to the men, but to the last order I probably owe my life, for, having been prompt in its execution and my horse being saddled, no sooner had the long roll sounded, than my men were in line. The attack was very sudden, and within three minutes our tents were literally riddled with the balls of the enemy's skirmishers. We marched the battalion to a kind of peninsula formed by a dense ravine on the one side and a creek on the other, and there formed the line of battle.

From the fatigue duty I have spoken of, and certain camp epidemics prevalent, our forces had been very much weakened, and we took into the field but about fifteen hundred men. To this force were opposed eight thousand of the enemy's infantry, supported by artillery and cavalry. Now, to the better understanding of my account, you must recollect what I have before written you, that the Second Brigade of Sherman's Division occupied the extreme left wing of the army, whose front lines extended many miles; that my regiment occupied the extreme left of the brigade, and observe that the enemy having surprised the centre which was broken, and having routed and captured the greater part of Prentiss’ command, to whom we looked for support, stole down our front and attempted to outflank us, and now at about nine o'clock on Sunday morning we joined battle. Having seen by my glass the vastly superior force of the enemy, I determined to sell our lives as dearly as possible, but never to surrender, and ordered my Zouaves to lie on their bellies, and, waiting the attack, not to fire until the foe was within twenty yards. We were ranged along the brow of the hill, slightly covered with a small growth of timber, and between us and the advancing ranks was an open plain. On they came, steadily, and save the tread of the well-trained soldiers, led by General Hardee in person, not a sound was heard; at last they were upon us, and then commenced the deafening roar of volley after volley; for four hours and a half the deadly hand-to-hand conflict raged. (I took 390 enlisted men into battle, I left 187 upon the field, killed or badly wounded, but from me they took no prisoners. The 71st Ohio . . . abandoned us early in the action, but the 55th Illinois were staunch. The brigade lost 587 killed and wounded, but most of these are from the 54th Ohio and 55th Illinois). At last our ammunition began to fail, and I never shall forget the despairing looks of some of the boys, who would come clustering around my horse and say, “Colonel, what shall I do; my cartridges are all out?” But, fortunately, the enemy's fire began to slack. My men all fired low, every man made his mark, and though our own men could hardly get round among their own killed and wounded, the field was strewn thick with the dead of the foe. By this time I was in command of the brigade, Colonel Stuart having been wounded and compelled to retire. I fell back in good order for better position and until I could be reinforced with ammunition; my forty rounds were all gone. At last an orderly from General Grant came up to promise the required supply and to order us to a position at which we could cover a battery. I forgot to tell you that the enemy had planted a battery upon a height, commanding our first position, and were shelling us all the while the first fight was going on. One of my horses was struck once by a piece of shell and twice by rifle balls. No sooner had we taken position by the batteries than the attack was renewed with greater vigor than ever; but now the heavy guns from the gunboats in our rear began to throw their shells clean over us and into the ranks of the enemy; never was sweeter music to my ears than their thunder; the shades of night drew on, the enemy began to slacken fire, and, as shell after shell dropped and burst in their midst, gradually retired. Our men dropped exhausted on their arms; all day the battle had raged, all day they had suffered privation of food and drink, and now began to fall a copious shower of rain, which lasted steadily till morning; through that shower without a murmur they slept, and the next morning at seven o'clock I, having been formally placed in command of the brigade by order of General Sherman, began the march towards the right wing, where we were to take position. General Nelson, who with General Buell had brought up reinforcements during the night, had commenced manoeuvres at daybreak. As early as eight o'clock my brigade was in the line of battle and under a heavy fire of shell. At about nine o'clock we were ordered into action, which was hotly contested all the day long. About four o'clock I was ordered to the command of another brigade, or, more properly, a concentration of skeleton regiments, which I had got into line, and, leaving my own command with Lieutenant-Colonel Malmborg, carried my new command far into an advanced position, then returning, brought up my own brigade upon the left of Shiloh Chapel. Now the Pelican flag began to waver and droop. All the day long we, that is, my immediate command, were opposed to the “Crescent City Guards,” the pet regiment of Beauregard, to whom in the morning he had made his whole army present arms, and whose flag he had at the same time planted, saying of us, the Northern army, “Thus far, but no farther shalt thou go”; vain boast; at even tide, like a gull upon the crest of the wave in the far-off ocean, it fluttered and went down.

I drew my forces up in good order under the eye of General Sherman, and Monday night again under a most drenching shower, which lasted all the night through, the men even now without food or drink lay upon their arms, and on Tuesday morning were again in line; the enemy had gone, but not their occupation; all day they stood guard upon the outposts, and the next day we marched the whole regiment onward for three miles and a half to bring in the wounded of the enemy. That day I took thirty-two prisoners, and brought in the bodies of an Arkansas colonel and Major Monroe, of Kentucky, the latter one of the most distinguished men of the State, and both of them I had decently interred. Oh, Helen, if you had seen the horrors of that battle, as I saw them when the rage of battle had passed, the heaps of slain, the ghastly wounds, had you heard the groans of the dying, had you seen the contortions of men and horses; but why dwell on the theme which abler writers will so vividly portray? I have given you one hasty sketch of the humble part it was my good fortune to be able to play in one of the greatest dramas of the age. Thank God for me, for in His infinite mercy He alone has preserved me in the shock of battle; pray for me always. One more conflict, and I leave a memory for my children or make a name for myself. My flag is still unstained, my honor still bright.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 195-8

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, April 17, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. INF.,

CAMP SHILOH, TENN., April 17, 1862.

Captain¹ is still safe, and I think if he gets through this war, he will be sufficiently broken for the children to ride. Though his mettle is as good as the best war horse of them all.

__________

1 A bay horse of much beauty.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 194

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, April 12, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGIMENT O. V. U. S. A.,

CAMP SHILOH, TENNESSEE, April 12, 1862.

I have an opportunity of writing at private hand, which I must not let slip although I wrote you yesterday. My health never was better, and I am in good spirits, hoping for another engagement, which I trust will be the last. . . . The next time our boys will be exactly in fighting trim. You must not permit yourself to be worried about me. God will take the same good care of me in the future as He has done in the past. The God of Battles (to whom I am grateful with all my heart, for He alone has saved me) will still stretch forth His protecting arm, unless it is His Will that I should go, and if it is His Will, I trust I shall be ready.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 194

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, April 11, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGIMENT O. V. INF.,

CAMP SHILOH, TENNESSEE, April 11, 1862.

MY DEAR WIFE:

You will have learned by the papers long before this letter reaches you that we have had a splendid engagement, or, I should say, a series of engagements running through three days. This is the first time I have an opportunity of writing you to apprise you of my safety, though I have asked some two or three others to do so. I have thus far passed through unscathed, save a slight wound in the arm. My regiment, however, has been badly cut up. My boys fought gallantly, and have shown a dauntless heroism in the fortitude they have displayed, in the endurance of fatigue and hardship they have been subjected to since.

Poor young De Charmes was shot through the lungs early in the action of the first day. Placing his hand upon his wound he said, “Tell my friends I die happy in the service of my country,” the only words he spoke. Captain Rogall,¹ the accomplished gentleman I have spoken to you of so often, was mortally wounded. De Charmes was a nephew of Mr. Geo. Graham, who may enquire of you concerning him. His remains were found and buried, but his person had been rifled of his watch, money, and everything valuable. One of my horses was shot three times, and struck in the neck by a piece of shell, but my noble “Bellfounder,” thank God, is safe; he carried me two days and nights, and never flinched from shot or shell. He is the most gallant horse I ever saw. Fatigue, starvation, exposure, nothing daunts his mettle.

Ben Runkle, I am told, who was with one of the regiments that came up with the reserve, was shot through the mouth. A bad wound, I am told. I went into battle with less than four hundred. My regiment had been cut up by sickness and fatigue duty. The reports, as near as I can get them at this time, show two hundred killed, wounded, and missing. After eleven o'clock on the morning of Sunday, the battle began. Colonel Stuart was wounded, and had to retire. The command of the brigade devolved upon me as next senior officer, and I carried the brigade through till three o'clock in the afternoon of Monday, when, by order of General Sherman, I added another brigade to it, and had command of both until the close of the battle.

I thank God who has graciously spared my life. I ask that all my family give Him thanks. My health is good. Write to my dear mother and send her this letter. This is the only sheet of paper I can borrow, and it is hard to write. My best love to all my dear children and to you.

___________

¹ This officer, though shot through the body, recovered.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 193-4

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, March 21, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGIMENT O. V. U. S. A.,

2D BRIGADE, 1ST DIV., TENNESSEE EXPEDITION,

ENCAMPED NEAR PITTSBURGH, TENN., March 21, 1862.

You will have been made very anxious about me by the one or two letters I regretted writing immediately after they were sent; but we had every hope of an engagement with the enemy, every reason to expect it would come off within a few hours, and in the excitement of the moment I deemed it my duty to write you just then. But the enemy retires as we advance, and up to this time refuse to give us a battle. Since writing last we have encamped and marched in Alabama and Mississippi, and are now encamped within a few miles of Pittsburgh, a point on the Tennessee River, above Savannah. Our camp is high, and I hope will prove healthy. The First Division, under General Sherman, has the advance, and the Second Brigade has the advance of the Division. I am second in command in the brigade, and therefore next to the first regiment in the whole army. The army will doubtless be from one hundred thousand to one hundred and fifty thousand strong, so that I have great reason to be satisfied. I have reason to believe that the 54th is well thought of.

The service of my regiment has been very active, though we have had no general engagement, marching, changing camp often, with scout and picket duty, has kept them constantly on the “qui vive.”  I find the life of a soldier full of excitement, and to me perfectly fascinating. My mind and body are constantly at work. I hope good will result to the country from the efforts we are now making, but every one here is opposed to us. The people almost without exception are “secesh.” I have taken a great many prisoners, some of them men of wealth, who do not hesitate to declare their traitorous feelings. An army of occupation will give us the control of trade, however, and restore to the Northwest the commerce of the Mississippi.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 190-1

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, March 13, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. U. S. A.,

ON BOARD STEAMER PRAIRIE ROSE,

NEAR SAVANNAH, TENNESSEE, March 13, 1862.

Within a few hours we shall probably be in battle. The last task I have to perform is to write to you and our dear mother. I have but little to say now that I have not expressed in former letters or in my conversations with you. I shall hope when this conflict is over to return to you; if by any untoward accident I should be unable to, I have only to ask of you to comfort mother in her declining years. An accident to me may prove to her a greater shock than she can bear. Of her I shall ask to comfort you who will need comfort and consolation. To our dear little children I have little to give save love and prayers. Keep their memory with love constantly alive for their father. The world will not speak well of him, for he has found in it more enemies than friends, and his pathway has not been smooth. The annoyances of life have prevented him from winning all their love. He has been harsh where he should have been kind. This they cannot now understand, but in after years they may. My only anxiety is to leave for them a name they may be proud of. The little valuables at Mr. Burt's, the banker's, are subject to your order; distribute them as you and mother think fit. My sword give to Walter; if Theodore survives him, let him have it. If both pass away, then Adrian. It is the only heirloom I care to preserve to the family. It will be to my boys, if they live, a memento of my life and the times in which we live. So much for business — and I pray you do not suppose that I entertain anything but bright anticipations of a glowing future. My heart is buoyant. My only anxiety is for my regiment, and that it may be taken into battle in due form and with a strict adherence to military rule. I may be mistaken, but my present impression is that the battle we are about to fight will be the test and turning-point of this war. If we succeed, negotiations will follow; if not, neither you nor I will see the end of this unhappy controversy. I think mine is a fighting regiment. I may be deceived or place my hopes too high. I pray to God I may not disgrace the regiment with me. I shall do my best, and leave the rest with the God of Battles.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 189-90

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGIMENT O. V. U. S. A.,

ENCAMPED NEAR PADUCAH, KY., March 7, 1862.

MY DEAR WIFE:

We are under marching orders, and should have left for Savannah, up the Tennessee River, yesterday. If you look on the map, you will discover the point near the straight line between Tennessee and Alabama. The transport steamers did not arrive, as we expected, yesterday, and we shall embark to-day. My troops are well armed and well equipped and in good spirits. My own health is excellent.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 188-9

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to his sister Helen, March 4, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. I. U. S. A.,

ENCAMPMENT NEAR PADUCAH, KY., March 4, 1862.

MY DEAR SISTER HELEN:

You must not any of you be alarmed for my personal safety. I am just as well cared for as if I was by your side in New York, the same good God is above me here as there. My health is excellent, I am only troubled for the loved ones at home. In one of your letters to Lizzie you speak of having heard of my regiment from Washington. I have never permitted it to be puffed through the newspapers, and have only wanted it to win its laurels honestly; but I assure you that it is the finest and best drilled regiment that ever left Ohio, and has been complimented by General Sherman, the Commandant of the Post, as the best regiment in the division here, some fourteen thousand strong. My men have been carefully selected for the Zouave drill — for I suppose that you are aware that it is a Zouave regiment — have been picked out for their youth and physical strength and activity, and I assure you in its ranks may be found some of the most splendid specimens of manly beauty. Their uniform is very handsome, though not as fantastic as the Zouaves you have seen about New York. They have dark-blue jackets, reaching to the hips, trimmed with red; light blue trousers with red stripes down the sides, and white gaiters, reaching some three inches above the ankle. Gray felt hats, low-crowned, and looped at the side with bright red tassels; some of them wear very fancy hats or caps, without vizor or brim, which with the streaming tassel makes them very picturesque. Their overcoats are bright indigo blue, with large capes. They are a splendid, brave, handsome set of fellows. My officers are certainly very handsome men, all of them, and among them men of fine talent, almost all accomplished as amateurs in music, drawing, and all that sort of thing. Some of them are good poets. We often have Shakesperian readings. I send an impromptu got off the other night by one of the lieutenants. . . . A society to which he belonged in college was called the "Owl," and he was requested to deliver a poem. Upon the spur of the moment he wrote that which I enclose and offer as a fair sample of the talent under my command.

My regiment is splendidly armed with the Vincennes rifle, and the troops are in fine spirits. Still there are troubles and trials and bitter vexations attendant upon a command which no one but he who has been through, can appreciate or estimate. Immense responsibility, gross ingratitude, no thanks for almost superhuman efforts, and the constant necessity for coolness, patience, forbearance, and the cultivation of a skin as thick as that of a rhinoceros. . . .

You will expect me to write you some war news; that I cannot do, for it is prohibited. I can tell you that I sent a detachment from my regiment to co-operate with a detachment from another command to occupy Columbus; and I can tell you that one of my lieutenants who was detailed on secret service has just returned from Forts Henry and Donaldson. He corroborates the published accounts of the fight at Donaldson, which was brilliant. Our troops fought under a most terrific hail of shot and shell; some five thousand on both sides were killed and wounded. You learn all these things through the newspapers, however, which relate them much better than I can.

The weather at this point is very changeable. We have had some lovely spring-like days, but to-day is bitterly cold, and yesterday we had snow and rain. March is a disagreeable month, I believe everywhere. It has always been disagreeable to me, wherever I have been.

Paducah was, before it became the seat of war, a beautiful town of some ten thousand inhabitants, among whom was a vast deal of wealth, exhibited in their fine mansions and sumptuous furniture. Very many of the private dwellings, luxurious in their appointments, the Court House, and other public buildings, have been taken for the use of the army. Elegant shade trees have been or are being cut down for fuel; gardens and lawns laid waste; beautiful palings torn down, and devastation made the order of the day. Most of the inhabitants who have been able to do so have gone away. The character of the people is decidedly "Secesh." The town is, of course, under martial law, civil courts for the present abolished, and no citizen can come or go without a pass from the Provost Marshal. A company is detailed from my regiment each day, whose duty it is, in connection with other forces, to guard all the points and lines of ingress and egress to and from the town, with orders to guard and search suspicious persons. All this gives one a full realization of war, which you in the Eastern cities have not yet had brought home to you, and which I trust you may never see. . . .

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 186-8

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, March 2, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. INF. U. S. A.,

March 2, 1862.

As you are perhaps aware, I marched from Ohio without arms, having condemned those which were furnished us from the State, and am now waiting arms from the arsenal at St. Louis, which I expected upon my arrival; these we still expect from day to day, and upon their reception will be put upon the march instantly. I do not know certainly, but have reason to believe our destination is the South — perhaps New Orleans, perhaps Texas. As soon as we move and as soon as I am properly advised of our destination, you shall be apprised. You must not permit yourself for one moment to be uneasy about me. Remember, as I have frequently told you, I have faced death in all its forms, and am yet unscathed; that the same watchful eye of Providence is upon me now, and will be upon me hereafter, that has scanned every good and every ill attending me from my cradle up. That if my life is worth preserving for any useful purpose, the God who gave will not take it back till its full course is run. I am at this moment writing in the midst of a violent thunderstorm which rocks and shakes the house I am sitting in. Nature is convulsed and the elemental war is raging round me. The petty warfare of man is as nothing compared to this. Our battles sink into insignificance. What is the rattling of musketry or the roar of cannon to the pealing reverberations from the thunder cloud; or the glittering bayonet or whistling sword to the scathing bolt from heaven that consumes quicker than thought can flash through the brain of man? Yet through this I sit calm and unconcerned, trusting as the child that nestles upon your lap. Why then should I fear what man can do? Why should you be apprehensive for me? As I always write, keep up a brave heart, dear wife. I cannot ask you not to be anxious, for that would be to ask you to lay aside that love I so dearly cherish. I know that anxiety and fear and anguish and weakness are inseparable from the sweet affection you bear for me, that all my philosophy will not cause your heart to abate one throb of its agony of apprehension. I only ask you to pray for strength, and strength will be given you. Do not permit your mind to dwell upon sorrows that may never come, but rather hope and rejoice in bright anticipations of a glowing future. Believe that I shall come back with bright honor, that at the worst if I fall, I shall leave to the dear children we both love so dearly the priceless heritage of a patriot's name. Sad hearts are mourning all over the desolated land. Tears are raining from scores of thousands of eyes this blessed Sunday. Brave hearts are swelling and yearning with affection for the loved ones at home throughout the ranks of five hundred thousand men. I strive to give you cheer. God help me, I am called upon to cheer almost a thousand who look to me for counsel. Again, pray for strength for yourself, and that strength may be given you to comfort others in affliction.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 185-6

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, February 21, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. U. S. A.,

CAMP NEAR PADUCAH, KY., February 21, 1862.

I arrived safely with my regiment yesterday morning, and am now encamped at a point about a mile and a half west of Paducah. Our voyage down the river was made safely and without accident. I think it a little doubtful whether you received my hurried letter written during the voyage, and therefore am disposed to recapitulate, even at the risk of giving you stale news, the circumstances of our departure from Camp Dennison. As I told you in one of our conversations I have considered marching orders as being near at hand for some weeks, and so endeavored to arrange my regimental matters that I should not be taken unawares, but I hardly expected them to come as they did, by telegraph, and on Sunday. I was very strongly tempted to pass that Sunday with you. Camp had become intensely disagreeable, the weather was cold, inclement, and the ground in a horrible condition, and I thought how very comfortable it would be to take a good Sunday dinner with you and have a nap afterwards on the lounge upstairs, enveloped in my new dressing gown, you were so good as to toil over for me, but again I thought if any accident were to occur to the regiment if I were away, that I would never forgive myself or be forgiven by my superior officers, and that at the present time I owed my whole time, at whatever sacrifice, to my country; therefore I resisted all the temptations and blandishments of home, and well it was that I did so. Oh! how bitterly have some of my officers and even privates regretted that they absented themselves, and at what terrible cost will they be to get to their regiment. I had gone through the duties of the day, which for Sunday in camp, or rather garrison, consists of an inspection of the barracks and soldiers with their arms and accoutrements, and was finishing my tour of the hospital when up rode an adjutant, his horse in a foam, and hurriedly handing me a paper, asked me when I could be ready to march. I looked at my watch, coolly took his paper, which was a telegraphic despatch or order, and replied: "In fifteen minutes." He looked at me incredulously and was about to ride off. I called to him, ''Stop, Sir, I will show you my troops in marching order within fifteen minutes, and leave it to you to report the fact." Within ten minutes from that time my soldiers were in line with blankets rolled and knapsacks packed, ready to march a thousand miles. The Adjutant, an old English soldier, by the bye, who was in the Crimean war and has been to India with troops, looked on in astonishment. But cars could not be put upon the railroad before nine o'clock the next morning, and all night I kept the men up cooking rations for three days. I sat up all night myself, and, of course, was about bright and early in the morning. My boys were all eager for the start. I had but one craven hound who deserted me, and he, I am sorry to say, was from . . . His name was . . . and he must be published to the world as a coward and a perjured liar. At nine o'clock as I sat on horseback at the head of the column with my staff about me, an orderly rode over to say that the cars would be ready by the time that I had marched to the depot. The cavalry regiment had sent their band and an escort, and with my own band we made fine music, and I flatter myself a gallant appearance. At the depot we were met by Colonel Burnett of the artillery with his band, and every officer of distinction at camp was there to bid me farewell. They gave me a good send-off. Few troops have left Camp Dennison under pleasanter auspices, and sooth to say I was loath to leave the old camp after all, for there I have spent some pleasant days "under the greenwood tree, and in winter and rough weather." I was so careful to get the troops on board and to see the last man on, that I got left myself and was somewhat thrown out of my calculations. However it ended well enough, for my farewell to you and the dear children would have been heartbreaking all round, and perhaps wholly unnerved me. As usual in moments of great excitement with me, I had lost my appetite, and did not want a great deal to set me back at a time when I required all my faculties at hand. It is just as bad to march troops from home the first time they leave their homes as to march them in battle to the charge. One of my companies was from Cincinnati, and it was almost heartbreaking to see the leavetakings between mother and son, husband and wife, sister and brother. All classes were represented, and I was compelled to put a stop to the terrible scenes mingled with considerable drunkenness (for the soldiers had so many friends that their canteens were well filled and continually replenished with whiskey) by ordering the captain of the boat of which I took charge in person to run her over to the Kentucky shore. My whole time was taken up as a matter of course, and I tried in vain for an opportunity to come to you. We sailed down the river without adventure worth relating, save that our soldiers fought terribly among each other, at least those who were drunk, and we lost one man by drowning, and another whose skull was fractured accidentally by a shovel. I arrived at Paducah at about six o'clock on the evening of Wednesday the 19th inst. As soon as the boat landed and before my report was written, I was waited upon by General Sherman, who is the commandant of this post, and by him shown on board a steamer lying a little farther down stream from our boat, which was thoroughly stowed, rammed, packed, and crowded with prisoners from the enemy, captured at Fort Donaldson, together with five thousand stand of arms. The prisoners were of high and low degree. I was introduced to one or two colonels and several other officers. The men, in my judgment, do not well compare with ours. I think we can always whip them about three to five. They fought magnificently, however, at Fort Donaldson, and lost probably on their side about three thousand killed and wounded. On our side there were thirteen hundred wounded and five hundred killed. We took thirteen thousand three hundred and thirty-six prisoners — these figures are reliable. The hospitals here are perfect charnel houses. . . .

When General Sherman had got through his business with me and had offered the hospitalities of his headquarters, I returned to the boats. The Fannie McBumie, the one in which I sailed, arrived first, and while I was inspecting the prisoners and arms, the Ben Franklin, the boat that had my other detachments, arrived. I was engaged during the night in preparing for disembarkation and at seven o'clock the next morning had my troops, horses, tents, supplies all off; at eight o'clock marched to General Sherman's headquarters, one of the finest regiments, as he told Colonel Stuart in my hearing, he had ever seen. The morning was fine and the boys looked splendidly. We are now, as I told you, encamped at a point about a mile and a half west of the city of Paducah, containing some ten thousand inhabitants. My troops are well bestowed in tents, and I have taken to myself a house of some twelve or fifteen rooms for my headquarters. It was occupied, I believe, by a secessionist, and has fine grounds, stables, etc., about it. I am very much more comfortable than at Camp Dennison. My regiment has the post of honor, and with a battery of artillery guard the encampment. There are a great many troops here. I cannot say nearly how many, for I have not information. I should think twelve or fifteen thousand. General Halleck, under whose command my regiment is placed, is concentrating vast forces here. He anticipates a forward movement. We are ordered to hold ourselves in readiness to march at a moment's notice.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 181-5

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, February 17, 1862

ON BOARD STEAMER FANNIE MCBURNIE,

NEAR LOUISVILLE, Feb. 18, 1862.

MY DEAR WIFE:

I was very much disappointed yesterday at being prevented from bidding you and the dear little ones "good-bye." My heart is quite full now, and I hardly dare trust myself to write. My command was ordered by telegraphic despatch. I got the regiment in the cars promptly and in good order, was the last man to embark, and from my anxiety to see that none was left, was left myself. This threw me back one hour and a half. At Cincinnati I was compelled to take command of two steamboats, two being required for the transportation of the regiment. We were compelled in order to preserve discipline to tie one of them to the Kentucky shore, and I was all the afternoon crossing the river in a skiff or yawl between the two boats. I did not dare at any time to leave the command long enough to come to you. You must keep up a brave heart, dear wife, I shall soon come back. Meanwhile, I am sure I have some friends in Cincinnati who will care for you.

I am writing now in a hurry, surrounded by a legion of officers and soldiers. I will write more at length from Paducah. I am seizing now the services of a pilot going ashore. My troops are all in good health and spirits. My own health is good. God bless and preserve you.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 180-1

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, January 26, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. U. S. A.,

CAMP DENNISON, January 26, 1862.

To-day the sword is received, and a very elegant and superior sword it is, I assure you, with its double scabbard and sword-belt all complete, well worthy of the donors.¹ My only prayer now is that by the grace of God, I may be enabled so to use it that they may not believe the gift ill-bestowed. I shall acknowledge the favor to-morrow if my time is not too much cut up. I have my head, hands, and heart full now and find every moment precious to me. . . .

You ask me to publish the correspondence between the kind friends who have presented me with the splendid sword and myself. I am almost ashamed to publish now the compliments through the daily papers. I would prefer, unless they preferred the other course, to wait until I had accomplished something that would be deemed worthy of the honor. One of my former associates at the Cincinnati Bar, who has taken the field, Colonel McCook, has recently at the battle of Fishing Creek, near Somerset, won laurels. Several Cincinnatians distinguished themselves, some were killed, and many were wounded. I do not like, or rather I do not think it quite in good taste to publish at this time, that which it would have been quite proper and of immense benefit to me and my regiment to have published a month or six weeks ago. I have not fully made up my mind, however, in regard to the matter, and whatever I do, you shall be at once apprised of.

I have the honor to command a regiment composed of as fine a body of men as perhaps were ever got together, and, if there is faith in human nature, they are all devoted to me. I feel sometimes, barring the deeds, like a hero of romance. I have three fine horses; one of them a stallion, that nobody can back or manage but myself; the very realization of all I ever hoped for in a horse, perfect in size, in symmetry of form, in color, in carriage, in speed, and in gait. His harness is complete. My pistols are the best of Colt's revolvers, with one of which I cut a card one inch on the line below the centre at a hundred and twenty-five yards distance a few days ago. I govern at despotic will nearly a thousand men, each one of whom leaps with alacrity to perform my bidding, and some, perhaps many, of whom would count it small cost to spill his blood for me. A soldier is always guarding the door of my tent, a line of soldiers always surrounds it, all my individual wants are supplied, the most of my wishes anticipated. I have recruited from all over the State, and all over the State I have friends, particularly among the women who are deluging me with presents for the regiment. The other day I received boxes containing two hundred exceedingly fine country woven blankets, with an equal number of flannel shirts, flannel drawers, pairs of socks and mittens from the ladies of Fayette County. Just afterwards the ladies of Preble County sent an immense quantity of blankets, socks, etc. The day before yesterday the ladies of Clifton sent some two dozen pillows, with cases, a number of sheets, shirts, old linen, etc., for hospital purposes, and to-day a large quantity of coverlids, pillows, preserved and canned fruits, etc., were sent down for the hospital. Just now as I am writing a man has come in with a dozen or two fresh eggs, each one carefully wrapped in paper, with a can of peaches, a bottle of vinegar, and a jar of tomatoes for the Colonel. Scarce a day passes that they don't send me chickens and all that sort of thing. Now, on the other side, I have a terrible responsibility, the mothers and fathers, sisters and wives, sweethearts, friends, and relations of all these brave boys look to me for their weal or woe. If I make a mistake by which human life is needlessly sacrificed, how terrible is the penalty! For this reason I am cautious. . . . I won't say I fear, for I hate the word; I don't fear anything, man or devil, but I don't choose to be in advance of myself — my hour has not yet come. I won't ask praise until I have earned it. I am very glad my friends have sent me this sword. It is more gratifying to my feelings than I can express to you, and I wish you would take occasion to write to each one of them, a list of the names of whom I will give you, your own personal recognition of the claim they have to your gratitude for the kindness and honor they have done your son.

You say you fear I am passing a gloomy winter in camp. I wish you could see me at this moment and the interior of the hut I live in. It is to me a paradise of delight. Do you recollect the old kitchen at the farm, and the saddles and bridles, bits and spurs that garnished the walls. View me now only more so ; pistols and swords, bridles and belts, caps and gauntlets, foils and uniforms, a rough pine cupboard with a bottle of whiskey and a jug of water, pipes, a table covered with a blanket, and that thoroughly littered, letters answered and unanswered, mostly the latter; Hardee & Scott, the Army Regulations, and the Lord knows what. Buffalo robes to sleep on, and horse rugs, red, gray, and blue blankets for cover; lie down when I please, get up when I please, breakfast from eight till eleven, dinner from twelve to four, for no heed do I pay to special orders in the eating line. I make the men eat to the tap of the drum, but I eat when I please. No woman to bother me, save the country maidens who come to camp to see the soldiers, and they not much. Nary baby to keep awake o' nights. The fact is, camp life to a field-officer is a bachelor's paradise.

__________

¹ Presented by friends in Massachusetts.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 178-80

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Mrs. Eliza Walter Smith, December 14, 1861

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. U. S. A.,

CAMP DENNISON, OHIO, Dec. 14, 1861.

MY DEAR MOTHER:

It will not be so difficult for me to get my regiment into the field as you imagine, after they shall be in readiness to go, which I suppose will be the case in a few days. It is not to be regretted that we have not been upon the march before as we should not have been in active service, but merely passed from one camp to another with the merest skirmishing to amuse us; meanwhile it will be the better drilled.

Your political views are as usual sound, but I much believe there will be warm work in the South and in Kentucky. The blood of our people is fairly up and neither side will be satisfied without a battle. However all this is in the future and gives me no concern. My only anxiety now is to get my men in marching trim and march and keep on marching for the balance of my days.

I reckon the sword will come from Boston in due season. William Dehon wrote me that one was ordered and would be forwarded to me sometime in December.

We too have lovely weather, balmy as the first of June, and oh, mother, as I look out in the early morning or stand alone at sunset upon some hillside, I too miss the gentle smile, the faded form; everything is here to remind me of him.¹ I dare not write of him. I loved him very dearly, more than I have loved anybody in the world, I believe, except perhaps you. I am sure I loved him much more than I have ever loved my own children — but I must check these rising feelings. I cannot permit myself to dwell upon those who have gone. I turn to this band of men about me, a large family who look to me for guidance, support, and succor — everything is abandoned. I feel as if I had cut loose from the world or all that part of it that has gone before.

__________

¹ His brother, Charles W. G. Smith, who died in New York as Secretary of the Union Defence Committee, May, 1861, aged twenty years.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 177