Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, December 16, 1862

Camp Near Falmouth, Va.

Dec. 16th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

Back again once more in the old camp, sound as a dollar. Would that 10,000 lying on the field across the river, or stretched on rude soldiers' beds in pain and some in mortal agony, could say as much! Gone are the proud hopes, the high aspirations that swelled our bosoms a few days ago. Once more unsuccessful, and only a bloody record to show our men were brave. This cannot heal the broken hearts this pitiful record is to cause. That God must do! Alas, my poor country! It has strong limbs to march, and meet the foe, stout arms to strike heavy blows, brave hearts to dare — but the brains, the brains — have we no brains to use the arms and limbs and eager hearts with cunning? Perhaps Old Abe has some funny story to tell appropriate to the occasion. Alas, let us await the wise words of Father Abraham! I say I am back, having recrossed the river about two o'clock this morning. Yesterday evening I was sent out with a couple of hundred sharpshooters to cover the front until the troops were all withdrawn. There I lay supporting the pickets within two or three hundred yards of the enemy while our troops crossed the river. Then word was sent us, and in silence we fell back, crossed ourselves, and then the pontoons were removed. Now we are in the old camp, and I am happy to write myself down in the number of those who have narrowly escaped. In the battle of Saturday, troops were thrown into the fight without any seeming regularity. Many were not under fire at all. Among the latter were the First, and a part of the Second Division of Wilcox's Corps. You know I belong to the First Division. Our position gave me a fine opportunity to witness the battle. It was a bonnie sight though, and thrillingly exciting. From the crests of the hills frowned the enemy's batteries. The city was gay with our troops. Beyond the city and below the batteries was open country giving no cover to advancing troops. Over this expanse our men were marched. The pennons fluttered gaily in the sunshine. Then suddenly the hills seemed to vomit forth smoke wreathing them in obscurity. Then followed the thunder of the cannon, intermingled with the screaming of the bursting shells. The ordeal was a terrible one. Some Regiments marched on without flinching; others fell back. To the left, running diagonally, was a stone-wall. A portion of our troops drew near it. This suddenly is likewise jetting with curls of smoke, followed by the sharp crack of the rifle and the angry humming of the conical balls. Now the troops are shaken. Stragglers run rapidly to the rear, then whole Regiments fall back with torn colors and broken ranks. It is of no use. That terrible stonewall is alive with death. Many Regiments try to reach it. Their efforts avail nothing though. Nearly in the center of the hill, west, there stands a fine old Virginia mansion of red brick with a stately colonnade running along its front. It was here that Col. Farnsworth had his headquarters last summer. This point was often attacked by our troops, but the house was like a hornet's nest. The enemy was strongly posted about it, in its alcoves, outbuildings and windows. There was death only, for those who tried to reach it. Our troops found some partial cover at a point below the house at the foot of the hill, where a small white house stood. Here two American banners were planted, the dear old thirteen stripes! How breathlessly we watched them! Though often attacked, when the smoke wreathed upward, our hearts were happy to see the colors still floating defiantly near the small white house. At length night closed on the scene. We believed the bloody day was done. There was one scene yet bloodier to be enacted. A final night attack was decided upon. We could not see our troops advancing in the darkness, but we heard a yell along the rebel line. Then a rapid musketry fire ran along the heights — a more terrible fire I never have seen. Forked tongues of flame such as old artists paint issuing from the mouths of the serpents to whom is given the tormenting of the damned, flashed in the night with a brilliant effect as the fire was delivered from man to man. Then darkness followed. Then silence. And we knew that more blood had been shed and nothing won. The next morning we were told that the 9th Army Corps was expected to storm the heights. It was Sunday morning. The Regiment was drawn up in line. The Chaplain read a chapter from the Bible, then said a short prayer. The men followed the prayer with their hearts, as men do who may never pray again. Then the word was given, “Forward,” and we started on the march, few hoping to survive. Then we were ordered to halt. We lay long in a state of expectancy. Meanwhile a new council of Generals was being held. There had been enough blood fruitlessly shed, said the most. No more of the madness and folly which will only result in the certain destruction of our army. Ten thousand men lost and the enemy sits unharmed in his trenches. Burnside says he will lead his own corps in person. But finally reason prevails in the council. The attack is postponed and finally abandoned. Last night the troops crossed the river, and to-day we are counting on our fingers the thousands of men the events of the past few days have cost us.

There are impossibilities in warfare — things that no troops can accomplish, however brave they may be. They cannot for one thing cross long stretches of open country without any cover in the face of an artillery fire of any magnitude, and then clamber up a hill-side exposed to the musketry of a concealed foe, and then cross the ditches and scale the earthworks of the enemy, driving the latter from their position with the bayonet. Men fight in masses. To be brave they must be inspired by the feeling of fellowship. Shoulder must touch shoulder. As gaps are opened the men close together, and remain formidable. But when the ranks are torn by artillery, the cohesion begins to fail. Then expose the men for several hundred yards to a murderous fire of musketry, and front rank man is gone, rear rank man is gone, comrades in battle are gone too. A few men struggle along together, but the whole mass has become diluent. Little streams of men pour in various directions. They no longer are amenable to command. The colors must be drawn to a place of safety, and in time the men will gather around it again. Numbers can effect little under such circumstances, provided they have no means of touching the enemy. The latter, lying under cover, firing from a place of safety, may murder your men. You may try again and again the experiment, but each repetition only lengthens the butcher's bill. Now I have written all this to show that success, as the attack was made, was impossible. In the same way we butchered the Confederates at Malvern Hill.

Well, I have seen McDonald, and felt quite happy to meet one who had been so lately among my friends at home. He told me of Uncle Phelps' offer of a horse, of his efforts for me and their probable success, and brought me some liquor and cigars from him and Cousin Henry. Give them my thanks, and say I delay acknowledging their kindness in a special manner, until I can learn all particulars from the Doctor. Arriving here the day of the battle, he has been so busy in the hospitals since, that I have barely learned the above facts as they were hurriedly repeated by him. I will write Uncle Phelps as soon as McDonald has time to tell me anything more than the general result of his visit.

I am so cold, that though I have much more that I would like to write, I must close and go to the fire. I may write again to-morrow. Love to all.

Affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 244-8

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, December 10, 1862

Camp Near Falmouth, Va.

December 10th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

I was much disappointed to-night not to hear from you. I had expected a letter all day long, but the usual mail did not arrive. I wanted to hear this time, because tomorrow we believe will be spent amid the deafening roar of cannon, which is to usher in another act, let us hope the final one, of the grand drama popularly known as “Onward to Richmond.” While I write, wagons are moving over the road, and preparations are being completed for to-morrow's engagement. Possibly the enemy may make no resistance here, still their batteries frown ominously upon us. The indications promise the great battle of the war — possibly an Austerlitz for the enemy — we hope a Waterloo for us. I have heretofore, sheltered by the prayers of mother and sisters, been singularly exempt from the accidents of war. The same Power that has already shown so much tenderness, has still the power to spare. But if in His wisdom it seemeth best this time to take my life, then, my dear mother, recognize in it only the Hand of the Inevitable. If my dying hours were only crowned by the certainty of victory, I could then close my eyes in peace. And in the great joy of the Nation, all individual griefs were selfish. So that I would have my mother's heart beat high, and be proud to have contributed a part of its own life's blood to the glorious consummation. With my whole heart I am eager for our success. Should I not see it with my earthly eyes, still let my mother rejoice for me, when all once more is well. But I am not given to entertaining forebodings. It is enough to do one's duty and let Providence provide. I prefer to think of the time when we all will return home, the laurel won. Think of the pride I shall feel as my own Regiment receives its welcome from the joyous citizens of New-York, a welcome deserved by its conduct on many fields. Think of the stories I would have to tell. I believe that Mary's boys — the next generation — will be better when they hear the story of the present. And another generation still, when the dimness of time shall have enhanced the romance, will dearly love to hear the tale of the Great Rebellion from the lips of Uncle Will. I think a wound — not a dangerous one, but some mark to show at the climax of the tale — would both contribute to the interest, and heighten the effect. Let us hope for the best in all things then, and believe that in all things, if we seek, we may always find a best.

Give my best love to Tom and Lilly, Hunt, Mary and the boys, Walter, Ellen and Nellie, Cousin Louisa. Pshaw! My dear friends are so numerous that I cannot mention them without surely omitting many often in remembrance, so good-bye.

Affec'y. your son,

Will.

[Note appended in his mother s handwriting:]

My dear, dear child, he has a nobler, purer, better, more unselfish heart, than the poor weak mother who gave him birth.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 242-4

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, December 7, 1862

Camp Near Falmouth, Va.

December 7th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

We are still lying quietly in camp — no signs of a move yet, but general suffering for want of clothes, shoes in especial. The miserable article furnished by the Government to protect the feet of our soldiers seldom lasts more than three or four weeks, so it is easy to understand the constant cry of “no shoes” which is so often pleaded for the dilatoriness of the Army. I am, happily, well provided now, and can assure those of my friends that contributed to the box Capt. brought me, that the box contained a world of comfort for which I heartily thank them. I think I have acknowledged the safe receipt of the box and its contents already, but a letter from Lilly says not. I will write Uncle Phelps that it came all right. I have had a rare treat to-day. Indeed I feel as though I had devoured a Thanksgiving Turkey. At least I have the satisfied feeling of one that has dined well. I did not dine on Peacock's brains either, but — I write it gratefully — I dined on a dish of potatoes. They were cut thin, fried crisp, and tasted royally. You will understand my innocent enthusiasm, when I say that for nearly six weeks previous, I had not tasted a vegetable of any kind. There was nothing but fresh beef and hard crackers to be had all that time, varied sometimes by beef without any crackers, and then again by crackers without any beef. And here were fried potatoes! No stingy heap, but a splendid pile! There was more than a “right smart” of potatoes as the people would say about here. Excuse me, if warming with my theme I grow diffuse. The Chaplain and I mess together. The Chaplain said grace, and then we both commenced the attack. There were no words spoken. We both silently applied ourselves to the pleasant task of destruction. By-and-by there was only one piece left. We divided it. Then sighing, we turned to the fire, and lighted our pipes, smoking thoughtfully. At length I broke the silence. “Chaplain,” said I. “What?” says Chaplain. “Chaplain, they needed SALT!” I said energetically. Chap puffed out a stream of smoke approvingly, and then we both relapsed again into silence.

I see a good deal of Capt. Stevens now, who says were his father only living I would have little difficulty in getting pushed ahead. He, poor fellow, feels himself very much neglected after the very splendid service he has rendered. It is exceedingly consoling, in reading the late lists of promotions made by the War Department, to see how very large a proportion has fallen to the share of young officers whose time has been spent at Fortress Monroe, Baltimore, or anywhere where there has been no fighting done. Perhaps our time may come one of these days, but I trust I may have better luck in the medical profession than at soldiering. However I suppose when I get old, it will be a proud memory to have fought honorably at Antietam and South Mountain, in any capacity. I feel the matter more now, for I have been in the service so long, and so long in the same place, that I am fairly ashamed to visit old friends, all of whom hold comparatively high rank. I do not see why before the first of January though, I should not be the Lt.-Col. of the 79th Regiment. In trying to be Major, I attempted to be frank and honorable, and lost. Now I shall try to act honorably, but mean to try and win.

I feel sad enough about Hannah. You know what inseparable playmates we were when children. God help her safely, whatsoever his will may be.

Love and kisses for all but gentlemen friends.

Affec'y.,

William.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 240-2

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, December 3, 1862

Camp Near Falmouth, Va.

December 3d, 1862.

My dear Mother:

I hasten to write you to-day, fearful lest you should dread my being overduly oppressed by any feeling of disappointment at not receiving that promotion in my Regiment, which friends may have flattered themselves was my due. I accept the disappointment without complaint — at least now, if not at first. Its so indifferent a matter after all, what position I may fill, so long as I am found worthy to serve in any wise the interests of a beloved country. I do not believe you love or esteem the simple Captain less. Rank in our Army is of small importance at best. I know full-fledged Colonels who once sat cross-legged in a tailor's shop, and who still know a deal more about mending breeches than about soldiering. Our democratic institutions work beautifully in the Army. But I won't grumble, provided friends at home don't fall asleep while such an institution as “piping” exists. I saw Gardner Green to-day, and talked McClellan to him until the cars carried him off.

By-the-way, dear mother, I need hardly state to you that I would rather like to get out of the 79th Regiment, and not only that, but out of the Volunteer service altogether. I do not know if the thing be possible, but would like very much to get into the Regular Army. Ask Walter and Uncle Phelps if they know of any parties capable of helping me in the matter. I suppose there are plenty of parties with feelings similar to my own, so that there are twenty applicants for every vacancy. Even if I were not to retain my Commission after the close of the war, a position in the Regular Army would secure me more congenial companions for the present. Do, mother, inquire if the thing can be done.

I like “Old Abe's” emancipation plans as developed in his “Message” very much. His “Emancipation Proclamation” though, I decidedly object to, after my Beaufort experience. The “Freedmen's friends” down there used to send home very glowing accounts of their successes, but they told awful lies. That whom Lilly speaks of meeting, was a rare old chap in the way of lying. I believe in getting rid of slavery at any cost, but think Father Abraham has proposed the wisest plan I have heard of yet.

I tried to get a chance for a few days at home this month, but as usual was told there was no chance. Were I any where else I could get home occasionally on Regimental  business, but I don't ask, nor expect, any favors in a Scotch Regiment. What evil star ever guided my destiny into a parcel of foreigners? I suppose Providence knows best, and now I find myself as fairly caught as Sterne's Starling with no likelier chance of getting out.

Well, success to my new fancy for the Regulars.

Love to all.

Affectionately,

Will.

I am repeatedly informed of the great sacrifices my brother officers have made in coming out to the war, usually in the following words: “Why, that man used to be a boss-mechanic at home.” Nothing but boss-mechanics in the 79th are supposed to have either hearts or any other kind of entrails.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 238-40

William Walter Phelps to Captain William Thompson Lusk, November 28, 1862

Nov. 28th, Evening.

My dear Will:

The end of a day marked by the alternation of joy with sorrow in an extreme degree. This morning the Postman gave me a large envelope covered with postage stamps, and marked with the seal of the State. It contained two papers — the one in a large envelope with the same seal upon its face and the superscription Major W. T. Lusk; the other, the letter explanatory from the Gov.'s Secretary, which I enclose.

You can imagine my gratification — the labor of months rewarded and the suspense ended. I made it a holiday.

Your Uncle, who had travailed with me, should rejoice over the birth. Down I rattled in the omnibus, with that beautiful Commission in my pocket — surest of the sure, for hadn't I it in black and white and on parchment? I could tell any one, but, except Nelly and our folks who were rejoicing over it at home, Mr. I. N.¹ should be the first.

I left the omnibus at the Post-Office, where I dropped in a letter to tell your mother that I had a Commission, in which the Commonwealth of N. Y. declared that for the confidence it had in him, her son was declared Major of the 79th. From the Post briskly to 45 Wall, where your Uncle and I re-read the Commission, shook hands and laughed over the accomplishment of well-laid schemes. Mr. Stillman was still off for Thanksgiving, so we had the office to ourselves.

Finally I tore myself away and went with Commission and a light heart to my desk at Judge Woodruff's. Young Woodruff read the Commission, congratulated me and floored me with a telegraphic despatch. I felt it in my boots as soon as “the words” (vide Homer) “escaped the hedje of his teeth,” that here was a fall to Pride. And so it was, and a happy day received a most gloomy end.

The Despatch told me to send back the Commission — that Capt. More must have it — that Capt. Lusk had recommended the appointment. I saw our Postmaster and told him to recall your mother's letter if possible. I broke the joy of your Uncle, who was telling Mr. Brady with glee of his nephew's promotion, and longed for bedtime that I might cease to think of the disappointment of human hopes.

I don't see how you could well help signing, but if you had only had the courage to rely on our watchfulness and refuse! But it's too late now. Your Uncle and I have only this melancholy consideration to console us — that we have spread your fame. Your name is as familiar as household words to Mr. A. T. Stewart who wrote for your Uncle the strongest of letters, to Gen. Wetmore, to Mr. Opdyke and hosts of solid men, who could tell your story from Bull Run down, as well as I.

Never mind, Will, your disappointment cannot be any greater than mine, who carried “Major Lusk’s” Commission for six hours and had to return it.

Only next time, if your friends have worked and provided for every contingency except that, don't sign away your chances by recommending another for the place they seek.

All well. Your mother comes down Monday to live with Lilly.

In haste, most affec'y.,

Walter.

_______________

¹ Isaac N. Phelps.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 236-8

William Walter Phelps to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, November 28, 1862

New-York, Nov. 28th, 1862.

My dear Mrs. Lusk:

You will rejoice with me on hearing that the Postman has just brought me a large envelope stamped with the State Seal, containing a Commission for Major W. T. Lusk! Hurrah! And Hurrah a second time, because I was too much for his honor, Lt.-Col. Morrison!

I surmised he would play Will a shabby trick and recommend another, and I was ready for him. I wrote to the Gov.'s secretary that he might nominate a fellow named More, but that Farnsworth, I was pretty sure, preferred Capt. Lusk. Sure enough! In Major Linsly's letter enclosing the Commission, he tells me that Capt. More presented himself with Col. Morrison's nomination, whereupon Major Linsly read my last letter to the Gov., in which I had anticipated the case, and the Gov. told him to send me the Commission for Capt. Lusk.

I write Will to-day, and send the Commission. I daren't send the latter before I have advised Will, or Col. Morrison, through whose hands it goes, might venture to detain or destroy it.

With love of Nelly and me to Hunt and Mary,

Very truly,

Wm. Walter Phelps.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 235-6

Captain William Thompson Lusk & Elizabeth Adams Lusk, November 26, 1862

Near Falmouth,

Nov. 26th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

I have selected the most inviting of the paper Nellie sent me to write you to-day — such nice paper I thought it would be to write a love-letter on, to some dainty little lady. I have lighted a real good cigar, and fancy I might be delightfully sentimental, but nearly five years absence from home has left me, alas! with no dainty little lady acquaintances, time having changed them into interesting matrons. So as my own mother is the most interesting matron of my acquaintance, I find myself writing to her.

To-morrow will be Thanksgiving Day. The manner in which it is supposed to be observed in camp you will find interestingly pictured in last week's “Frank Leslie.” I suppose we will dine in reality to-morrow on coffee and crackers and fried beefsteak. Still these things satisfy the appetite, and are even capable of producing dyspepsia, notwithstanding the popular notion that such an evil is confined to the pampered denizens of cities. You must take Sam Elliott's descriptions of camp-life cum grano salis, remembering what wonderful descriptive powers he possesses. I do not doubt he pictures the horrors so vividly that the hearers suffer far more from listening to his accounts, than the actual victims do from experiencing the reality.

You will see Wm. Elliott I suppose. Tell him then that I must have written authority from him to collect the money for his lost horse. I wish to serve him, but need the writing to enable me to act. My special friend, Lt.-Col. Morrison, played me another amiable trick tonight, having appointed More Major of the Regiment, subject to the approval of the Governor of New-York. This was in the first place unnecessary, as More has not yet reported for duty. Then it was a thing he had no special power to do, Col. Farnsworth (so he writes me) having already recommended me to the Gov. for the position. But it was a cunning trick, as, should my appointment occur in the face of his own published to the Regiment, endless troubles could easily be made to result. Yet Morrison to my face is the sweetest, most amiable among the artificers of brasses for andirons.

Capt. who so flatteringly presented my prospects and deserts to Uncle Phelps, was at the same time, Farnsworth writes me, the bitterest of my opponents, and using his best efforts to ruin me in New-York and Albany. They are a sweet set among whom I have fallen. They owe Elliott and myself an old grudge for the favor Stevens showed us, which they now have an opportunity to repay. They have fixed Elliott's case for him, and they are busy settling mine. However I have recovered my amiability, and no longer feeling any hope of escape, am not a little amused at the trouble they take regarding me. I tell them everything candidly, so that they need be at no pains on my account, but they, not supposing it possible for a man to be staightforward, exhaust any amount of useless cunning to gain their ends. And the best of it all is, that while all this working is going on, we are all such capital friends that it is really delightful to see brethren live in such harmony together.

With regard to the intended Army movements we are all utterly in the fog, the time passing and the mud growing deeper, while batteries are being built by the enemy under our very noses. What's the use of questioning? Time will show.

I shall think of you feasting merrily to-morrow, mindful of the absent son and brother, and wish you all joy.

I am wearing the stockings you sent me and find them glorious. I am generally quite comfortable now, from the contents of the box my friends prepared and sent me. You must thank all those to whom I am indebted, in my name. I shall send this letter to New-York direct, supposing it may reach you sooner so. Love to Lilly, Mary, Hunt, Tom, and the Infant Department.

Affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 233-5

Captain William Thompson Lusk & Elizabeth Adams Lusk, November 22, 1862

Near Falmouth, Nov. 22nd, 1862.

My dear Mother:

We are still overlooking the city of Fredericksburg, which the enemy has not evacuated, disregarding our warnings. I suppose the shelling of the city will commence to-morrow, unless regard be shown by our Commanders for the Sabbath day. I must say the attack on Fredericksburg is a thing I greatly dread. The field of battle with all its horrors is redeemed somewhat by the thought that the dead on both sides have fallen in a cause sacred in their own eyes at least, and this redeems them, but wanton destruction of property and all the probable results of a successful siege develop only the most devilish propensities of humanity. To see women and children, old men, the weak and the feeble insulted and injured, makes one hate war and distrust one's cause, and yet with the lax discipline maintained in our armies, we have too frequent examples of such outrage, the efforts of officers to check them being completely neutralized by the accursed conduct of the Press with its clamor for a vigorous prosecution of the war. In this way Pope prepared his troops for defeat. Burnside is a nobler nature, and will do what he can to prevent such stains on our honor, but he even cannot wholly arrest the effect of the savage appeals of our journals at home. You ask me what I think of McClellan? I cannot answer for myself, I have been too little under his command, but by his old soldiers — by those in whose judgment I place confidence, he is trusted as the ablest General in our army. Granting even that he is slow, they believe he had the power to have brought the war successfully to a close, had he been allowed to execute his plans without the assistance of our Executive's wisdom. I fear we have no great soldiers in our army. Probably we had a good mediocre one in McClellan. It is doubtful whether we have that now. Poor old . . . Abe has put down his big clumsy foot —and God help us! We don't look for assistance either to old Abe or the collective wisdom of his advisers. We hardly look to the people of the North wearied with repeated disappointment. In our wretched army system we have not much more to hope. What then? We must trust in God, and conquer. This alone can help us now. To this is our pride humbled. In hoc signo vinces. I do not despair, but hope — and while I live, will never despair — but my hopes will rise, when a sincere effort shall be made to check the license and marauding propensities of our troops, when thieves and robbers shall receive speedy and terrible justice, when, in a word, we shall deserve to conquer. A righteous indignation toward the authors of the rebellion may be a good thing, but it is very likely to be confounded with a desire to pamper one's belly at the expense of the helpless. It may be a good thing to use severe measures to bring deluded men to a sense of their errors. Still I think, were low ignorant ruffians to visit my home while I was away fighting, burn my house, lay waste my property, insult mother and sisters, beggar the little children I might love, taunt the gray hairs I might respect, leave starvation in the place of plenty, I should feel singularly strengthened in my early delusion. Yet this is a truthful picture of what the and its school mean by a vigorous prosecution of the war. Cromwell's troops were terrible soldiers — a scourge to the enemy — and they conquered because they were forbidden to stain their cause with robbery and wrong. I heard two soldiers disputing to-day, one of them belonged to the 18th Ind. Vols., the other to the 8th Ohio Vols. They were contending as to which Regiment should be entitled to the credit of having collected and sent home the greatest amount of plunder. I heard a Michigan soldier boasting that his Regiment had foisted thousands of dollars worth of counterfeit money on the people of Virginia in exchange for little luxuries. A poor woman lived near us. A party of cowards entered her house to search for booty. She implored them to leave the little that she had for her children's sake. The brutes thrust her out of the door, until they had ransacked the poor dwelling, and then left a weak woman and feeble little children to go supperless to bed. The great, hulking, cowardly brutes! But I have no wish to point the finger further at our disgrace. I have said I do not despair, but at sight of such things I cannot but despond.

Give my best love to all my dear friends — God bless them and protect them.

Very affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 230-3

Captain William Thompson Lusk & Elizabeth Adams Lusk, November 19, 1862

Near Fredericksburg,         

Nov. 19th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

Here we are at last on familiar ground, lying in camp at Falmouth, opposite to Fredericksburg. I have been unable while on the march for the few days past, to write you, but am doing my best with a pencil to-night, as one of our Captains returns home to-morrow, and will take such letters as may be given him. It was my turn to go home this time, but my claim was disregarded. You know Lt.-Col. Morrison has command of the Regiment in Col. Farnsworth's absence, and Morrison never omits any opportunity to subject me to petty annoyances. I am an American in a Scotch Regiment, and in truth not wanted. Yet I cannot resign. The law does not allow that, so I have to bear a great deal of meanness. Stevens in his lifetime knowing how things stood, kept in check the Scotch feeling against interlopers like Elliott and myself. . . . I do not exaggerate these things. I used to feel the same way in old times, but had been so long separated from the regiment as almost to forget them. I have borne them of late without complaint, hoping the efforts of my friends might work my release. In the Regiments of the old Division I think no officer had so many strong friends as I. In my own Regiment I may say that I am friendless. (I except McDonald). In the Division I had a reputation. In my Regiment I have none. After eighteen months of service I am forced to bear the insults of a man who is continually telling of the sacrifices he has made for his country, because he abandoned on leaving for the war, a small shop where he made a living by polishing brasses for andirons.

Forgive me, my dear mother, for complaining. It does me good sometimes, for then after speaking freely, I always determine afresh that if these things must be, I will nevertheless do my duty, and in so doing maintain my self-respect. Love to all, dear mother. Good-bye.

Very affec'y.,

William T. Lusk.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 229-30

Elizabeth Adams Lusk to Captain William Thompson Lusk, November 17, 1862

Norwich, Conn.

November 17th, 1862.

My own dear Son:

I think I will commence the week by writing a letter to you who in these times of trouble occupy so large a share of my thoughts. Sam Elliott was here on Saturday, dined with us and stayed some hours. His sad condition makes me feel very melancholy. Poor fellow! How he has suffered. I sometimes wish you were all withdrawn from the Army. Oh! my poor, poor country! It is so grievous to see our sons and friends maimed, sick, or to know that they are dead. He (Elliott) tells me you are well, and seem strong. God has indeed been merciful to spare your life and strength amid such great dangers as you have passed through during the last eighteen months. Elliott talks of returning to his duties this week. He certainly ought not, for he is weak, sick, and unfit for exertion; besides that, he requires the most nourishing diet. He told me that he found you at breakfast on mouldy bread and sloppy coffee, while we who are at home doing nothing, are fattening on luxuries.

Oh! my dear, dear son, I feel so anxious about the effect of this coming cold winter, and I cannot help a feeling of bitterness that you are not provided with proper food. If you should have an attack of rheumatism, do get permission to return to be taken care of properly. I hear nothing more of your prospects in New-York, but am sure your friends will not relax their exertions. We are all well here, and the Grands are doing finely, especially the last. A week from Thursday is our Thanksgiving Day in Conn., so we are expecting Thomas and Lillie to pass the day, after which I shall return with them to New-York for the winter. Elliott told me when he reached New-York, being cold, he wrapped around him the blanket Hunt gave him, and as he staggered from weakness, a police officer arrested him for drunkenness, but released him immediately on discovering that he was ill. What is the general feeling in the Army regarding the removal of McClellan, as far as you can judge? Uncle John is violently opposed to him, and Hunt, I think, partakes of his feelings. Whether justly, or unjustly, there is certainly a strong party against him. The Post and Tribune oppose him, the World and Express uphold him, while the Herald humbly submits its judgment to the will of the President.

Mary Wells and her husband have returned from Europe, and are expected here this week. Hannah has nearly, or quite recovered her strength. I have not much news to tell you. The Twenty-sixth Regt. left last Thursday, to the relief of some of our citizens. They were in town at all hours, and a hundred or more at once would run past the guard and rush to their tents when they pleased. The Lt.-Col. when issuing his orders, would address them thus: “Gentlemen, please to stand back,” or, “Gentlemen, please to stop,” when he wished them to halt. This is the gossip. Very few of them were known in town, and consequently less interest was felt for them than for the Eighteenth and Twenty-First. Edward Ells, and young Meech who married Louisa Bond went with them. Gen. Tyler and Ned, Dr. Osgood saw last week in Chicago. He reports that they are having a rather forlorn time. It is some time since their paroled prisoners have seen the paymaster. I hear you have been inconvenienced by the same cause. The papers state that all are now being paid, so I hope you too will receive your own. Uncle Thomas heard somewhere, that the “De Soto” was off New Orleans on her way home for repairs. If this is true, Charles may soon be home.

Good-bye, my own dear son, may the Almighty God be ever your defence and shield.

Always very lovingly,

Mother.

Elliott said, if the Medical Examiner forbids his return this week, he should come and see me again. His brother William is in Washington. His arm is still useless.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 226-8

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, October 28, 1862

79th Regiment, Oct. 28th, 1862.

Camp Near Southville, Va.

My dear Mother:

We are once more on the march and have recrossed into Virginia. Let us pray for success — and hope. I am in first rate health and spirits. It seems as though exposure was a good thing for a soldier. All the time I lay in camp I did not feel well. The day we marched it rained hard, and the air was excessively cold at night. I was appointed Division Field Officer for the day, and had to spend hours in a cold dark rainy night wandering through marshes and wet fields examining picket posts. Well, instead of killing me, as my good mother would have supposed, I lost all my ill-feelings, and, after a night's sleep, am in better condition than I have been in for weeks. I regret only one thing — that we can no longer receive our mails regularly. In our last camp things were so arranged that we received the mail daily, which was very pleasant.

I had a letter from Coz. Lou a day or two ago, and enjoyed it greatly. It seems to me that Lilly has forgotten her offer to become my correspondent, that is to say, to do all the corresponding herself. I am sure I grasped her offer most warmly. I received a kind and friendly letter from Col. Farnsworth some days since, which I forwarded to Walter. The Colonel promised me all the influence he possessed for my advancement. A call has been lately made for men of the Volunteer Army to enlist in the Regulars. It speaks well for the discipline of the Highlanders, that, while from other Regiments from 75 to 100 men eagerly sought the opportunity to enter a new service, hardly a dozen of our men have been found ready to change their present condition. In my own company not one has volunteered.

Affec'y.,

Will.

If I get disabled, I think I shall keep a candy store — with so many nephews I would be so popular. Tell Mrs. Dodge that, for the benefit of her little girl, I shall keep an assortment of the biggest goggle-eyed wax dolls.

W. T. L.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 222-3

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, October 19, 1862

79th Regiment, Camp Israel,                      

Pleasant Valley,        

Oct. 19th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

It is some little time since I have had an opportunity to write you, for a few days ago we were suddenly sent to Frederick for the protection of that place, apprehensive of an attack from Stuart's troopers. While there, we had no conveniences for inditing epistles, little to eat, and plenty of exposure. When I left for Frederick, I was quite ill with camp dysentery, but it left me very soon, although I have no doubt, could you have seen me lying out of doors without shelter in the cold night air, you would have predicted certain death to me. I find men don't die easy, unless they are shot. Atmospheric exposure doesn't kill. Men grow and thrive with hardship.

Well, so I am another Uncle, bless my heart! As well as the little heart of the new youngster who wouldn't be a girl for any consideration! The female sex don't seem to smile upon me, but then boys are such “rare birds,” as Dr. Tyng said of Billy Willson's Zouaves. There's some consolation in that. I think I shall accept the Uncleship of Ellen's baby, so that when I get old and a busybody, I can make a match between this last nephew of mine and little Miss Dodge. Hey! Won't it be fun! Give the small boy a good kissing, tell him I am going to arrange all his love matters for him when he gets old enough, and most charming of all, will buy him a new drum as soon as he can handle the drumsticks. For the rest I do not doubt but that he is a phenomenon of a beautiful mottled cherry color, in fact beyond comparison, unequalled by any other baby of his age living. Give my congratulations to Hunt and Mary, and tell them, like a good brother I rejoice with them, and only wish I could be present with them for a few days to share their joy.

It is raining hard to-night and we think that cold weather will follow. As for promotion, I do not bother my head about that. I have enough to disgust me in a thousand ways to make me sick of soldiering. However, duty is duty, so I put my nose to the grindstone and say, “Grind away.” . . . My own tent — we are five of us together — has a pretty good set of fellows. The only trouble is, with the exception of my old first Lieutenant (appointed Capt. today), they sadly lack interest in the cause they are engaged upon. These new Regiments have destroyed the enthusiasm of the old. The newly enlisted men have already in advance, in the way of bounties, received more money than old soldiers can hope to earn in the entire war. The old officers who have been in many battles and by hard service have learned their duty, are obliged to receive instructions when on picket or other extra duty, from some Major just entering on military life, who very likely pegged shoes for them, without an inspiration for military glory, a year ago. These things are hard to gulp down, and unless the sense of duty is very strong the murmurings are loud indeed.

Affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 220-2

Elizabeth Adams Lusk to Captain William Thompson Lusk, October 6, 1862

Norwich, Oct. 6th, 1862.

My own dear Son:

I certainly did not intend writing you to-day, and have but little time, yet I must acknowledge the reception of Special Order No. 8 from the Headquarters of the 9th Army Corps, and the pleasure it affords me. Thomas Perkins obtained a letter from the Gov. of Conn, to the Gov. of New-York. Walter has written you the favorable result of his application so far, but of Gov. B’s¹ letter I wish to make special mention. It was in the highest degree complimentary to you, and stated in conclusion that had you served in a Conn. Reg't he should have promoted you long since. In fact my son, even I felt he had written as handsome a letter recommending your promotion as I could desire. So N. Y. I think is fairly the State of your adoption, and your claims rest upon her, as you have served with her sons. Should E. resign, Gov. M.² has promised upon proof of your being first Captain, that you shall receive the commission. However, it is best that you should keep your friends advised, and we will do what we can. I have so much to say, I wish I could talk to you. Good-bye, God will bless you, trust Him for all things.

Very lovingly,

Mother.

Hannah has a son three days old. I have sent Special Order No. 8 to your Uncle Phelps and Walter who will use it as they like.

_______________

¹ William A.Buckingham.

² Edwin D.Morgan.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 218-9

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, September 30, 1862

Antietam Iron Works,          

79th Regiment,   

Sept. 30th. 1862.

My dear Mother:

I send you herewith the copy sent me to-night of Special Order No. 8 from the Headquarters of the 9th Army Corps. I trust it will afford you a crumb of comfort. Keep it, if it will be of any use in getting me recognized in Connecticut. Having always boasted of hailing from that State, I am considered as a sort of alien in a New-York Regiment. But Connecticut doesn't appear to trouble herself much about me, so I think it would be better if you should forward the document to Horace, to whom I have confided the delicate task of insinuating to my New-York friends that I am really living still. It might be of some assistance to him.

Have nothing further to add, except that I don't fancy my old crony Hattie's marrying a widower with three children. Love to all.

Affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 217-8

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Horace Barnard, September 28, 1862

79th Regiment,

Near Antietam Creek,

Sept. 28th, 1862.

My dear Horace:

Here we are, still resting at the mouth of this muddy little stream now famous and historical. Ten days have gone since the battle and yet there are no signs of bustle and busy preparation aiming at the destruction of our dirty foes on the other side of the river. I say, “Forward!” To think of hesitating before such a pitiful crew as those we have so lately beaten! You perceive our recent successes are making us forget Manassas. But McClellan is cautious, and, without intending any disparagement, does not possess that lightning rapidity which characterized the “old Napoleon.” Yet we of the Army are jealous of McClellan's reputation and fear the possibility of losing him. Not indeed because we believe him equal to the command of 600,000 men — we believe him simply the best general we have got, and do not trust the judgment of old Abe in the selection of a new one. Pope, Sigel, Fremont, and the whole batch of our political Generals are objects of honest terror to every soldier in the Union Army. Stevens was a better man than McClellan. His judgment was unerring, his foresight marvellous, his prophecies sure of fulfilment. He had a power to electrify troops, and lift them at the critical moment to a degree of enthusiasm that was inspiration. He could be cautious and crafty, as well as daring. He felt himself born to hold the reins of authority, and grasped them so that the steady hand was felt by the commonest soldier of his command. Soldiers all loved him, and recognized his strength as it were by instinct. He knew how to deal a hard blow, and deal it with rapidity. He never underestimated a difficulty, but his estimates were forestallments of history. What he possessed in an eminent degree was Power — and Power composed of rude strength and natural vigor. What he lacked was comeliness. This, culture could not give him. He needed a grand sphere in which to move. Then he would have been grand. Confined, one could detect what was gnarled and ungainly. The oak is the monarch in the midst of the forest, not in the garden. Among flowers, neat trimmed box shows to the best advantage. There was something about Stevens that offended little souls, and there were many little souls who hated him. He had such a galling way of expressing his detestation at what deserves contempt, that many felt themselves offended thereby. He had many enemies and many friends, but those who knew him best mourn his loss most deeply. The neglect and injustice shown him in his life time broke his heart. He is dead now and at peace.

To-day I received nine letters, the first I have seen in many a day. Some of them are very old, but they afforded a rare treat for all that. In one of them my mother writes she had received a letter from you, in which you wrote that I had glory enough at twenty-four to last me for a life time. Ah, my dear Horace, there was rare irony in that! I acknowledge it. I have had “glory” enough to last me for a life time. I am satisfied with what I've had of the article and am willing in future to dispense with any further accessions. See what a valuable thing it is! A few days ago I enjoyed high favor, I went into fresh battles, and the records show fresh praises from my Commanding Officers. Christ, who commanded a Brigade of five Regiments in the recent battles writes in his report: “While the officers of my command in general conducted themselves well, my special thanks are due to Capt. Lusk for the valuable services he rendered me.” Now for the rewards of service. I have to-day the command of 14 men, six of them old soldiers that grumble, and eight raw recruits who are learning the mysteries of the goose-step. Sic itur ad astra. There's glory for you. I acknowledge I have had enough to satisfy me for the rest of my life. I have not been persecuted in any way. The whole thing is the result of natural causes which could not be avoided. Fortune simply played me a sorry trick. Friends say, “Resign.” But I am not willing to be petulant. If disgusted with “glory,” I believe in a better word, and that is — duty. So I have turned to, tried to stop the grumbling of the old soldiers, and get the recruits to do the goose-step creditably. I want the fighting to go on though. I can't stand it, lying still. I want to fight the thing through, and get out of a mortifying position. After sixteen months of service I trudge around with a corporal's guard, while old friends who have been waiting favorable opportunities at home until now, prancing by me in new regimentals at the heads of Regiments, nod to me familiarly perhaps, or probably pass me unnoticed. There are no vacancies at present in the Field of the 79th Regiment, and yet any day there may be. I am the next eligible candidate at present in the Regiment for promotion, and might get the next vacancy if friends at home were only alive to the necessity of vouching for me in some way, to those who have the power to dispense Commissions. Here I see miners, tailors, carpenters and all sorts of petty tradesmen, who find no difficulty in getting friends to mention their names, and because successful, boast much of their political influence, and yet I, a gentleman with plenty of friends, cannot boast of enough to secure me my just dues in the regular order of seniority. I do not want to be querulous. I do want Uncle Phelps though, if he knows Gov. Morgan, to remind him occasionally that he has a nephew whom Gov. Morgan might remember, &c. Well, my dear Horace, I will say no more. Verhum sat sapienti. I hope one of these days to get home with my duty done, and then I can laugh at my present comical situation. Do write me a long letter. I have heard nothing from you for some months, though this is my third letter. I suppose either yours or mine have been lost. Love to Cousin Lou, Hattie, your mother and the good people on the Hill.

Affec'y. but sadly,

Will.

79th Regt. 1st Brig. 1st Div. gth Army Corps, Washington.

(To be forwarded)

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 214-7

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, September 28, 1862

Mouth Of Antietam Creek,

79th Regiment,

Sept. 28th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

I have been sitting smoking my pipe by moonlight, pleasantly chatting with my old friend Dr. McDonald, till remembering my anxious mother, I have returned to say cheering words to that most estimable and precious lady. At last your kind pains have been rewarded. A mail-bag has arrived from Washington, and made me the happy possessor of nine letters. What a treasure! Eight from you, and one full of kindness from dear Lilly who promises moreover to write me more, though I should prove a negligent correspondent myself. Tell her to do so by all means. Such proofs of love are very delightful. I wrote you last, that I was entertaining some idea of joining McDonald as his Asst. Surgeon. We had the thing all nicely arranged — had consulted and received the approval of the Medical Director, when a young man presents himself duly commissioned for the position by the Governor of New-York. My lucky star is not in the ascendant.

Another change has taken place in my affairs. A new brigade has been formed, and the 79th Highlanders transferred to it. I was obliged to follow with my Regiment, and consequently resigned the position of A. A. A. G. to the old Brigade. The same position was offered me in the New Brigade, but, not liking the Brigadier, I declined the honor. So now I am back again, a simple Captain in the 79th, sole commander in chief of a company numbering some 20 effective men. So much for “Glory.” It may perhaps console you that Col. Christ, who had charge of five Regiments in the late battles, writes in his reports: “While I have reason to commend in general the conduct of the officers of my command, my special thanks are due to Capt. Lusk for the valuable services he rendered me.” I quote it (as nearly as I can remember) because in the mass of reports which are sent in, few, if any, will ever come to light again.

I am glad you proposed to visit Maj. Elliott in New London. He is a warm and true friend of mine. I wrote Horace to-day quite a long letter. Hunt's letter, recommending me to accept the position of Aide on General Tyler's staff came too late. I could not apply for it, as a Brigadier is not entitled to an Aide beyond the rank of Lieut., unless the officer receives his commission direct from the President. With Stevens I was simply detached for Staff duties. This could be done inside, but not outside, of the Brigade I may be attached to. I could therefore accept by Army Regulations nothing less than the position of Asst. Adjt.-General. Otherwise I would have fancied the thing right well, as, having consigned all ambitious project to him who is said to be the Father of them, I would like very much to see something of campaigning in the West, and the Western country. We are now resting, recruiting, and getting ready for new deeds. I trust we have inaugurated victory now, and mean to hear nothing more of Manassas.

Great must Uncle John's faith be, if he still believes in Pope. I am sure there was not a man in his army, who had any confidence in his capacity, even previous to his final disasters. We all considered him a very noisy, pretentious liar.

It is now so late that I must say Good-Bye.

Affec'y.,

Will.

79th Regiment, 1st Brigade, 1st Div.

9th Army Corps.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 211-3

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, September 22, 1862

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

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, September 18, 1862

Address:

Capt. W. T. Lusk, A. A. A. Gen.

1st. Brig. 1st. Div. 9th. A. C.

Washington, D. C.

(To be forwarded)

Sept. 18th, 1862.

My dearest Mother:

After the battle of South Mountain, as we were being pushed on to this point (near Sharpsburg), unable to write myself, the Chaplain of the 79th kindly promised to inform you of my safety. Yesterday there was another fierce battle in which I took an active part, but he who lends a pitying ear to the prayers of the widow and the fatherless, vouchsafed to spare me in the time of danger. To-morrow I suppose there will be another battle, so to-night, though it is late, I write you hurriedly. Our successes in Maryland have been signal. We have been cheered for the bloodshed of the past few days by the sight of a retreating foe. God grant us such victories as may speedily end the war. All wish for peace, and so are willing to fight with desperation. Our division has done splendidly so far.

I long to hear from home. Your letter of the 25th of August, telling me that I was an unsuccessful candidate for position in the 18th Conn., is the last news I have received from home. Well, my fate is the fate of thousands. Those of us who have borne all the dangers and privations of the past, have no pretensions in comparison with such as can control a few votes in a country parish. I have taken part now in seven grand battles, and over a half dozen smaller engagements, have been constantly in service for fifteen months, have received the most gratifying expression of the esteem of my superior officers, but promotion is not the result of service according to our present system. In my old position as Acting Asst. Adjt.-General to the Division, with a change of Generals, I was superseded by a private of the 7th Regiment of New-York, who received a Commission from the President. This is perfectly right, as each General must choose his own Adjutant and form his own staff. Of the fifteen months I have held a Commission, fourteen months I have held acting appointments, that is, have had the labor and responsibility of various positions without the emolument. I am now Acting A. A. General to the first Brigade of this division, the regular pay of which position is between $160 and $170 per month. Holding only an acting appointment I receive $120.00. There is not much encouragement in this, but still I am content to be of any assistance, or to do my duty in any position which may be allotted me. I fear my old friends who hoped for much, feel more distressed than I do. I saw Charley Farnsworth in Washington. He feels that he has done much, and has received only neglect in return. His wound troubles him still, and I think he is not sorry to make it a pretext for quitting a service where there is no glory, no recognition of service to promote and foster a soldier's pride. Charley is a fine fellow, and his parents may feel proud of him.

I have had those two bad teeth of mine extracted. Tried a Regimental Surgeon first. Surgeon breaks one of them off, and I decline to have the experiment repeated — suffer all sorts of agony for about a month. At Frederick find a regular dentist who feels confident that he can draw any tooth. I let him try first the one not already partially operated upon. Dentist puts on the forceps and crushes in one side, then cuts the gum, tries again — pleasantly assures me he can do it, and crunch goes the old tooth again. Dentist grows radiant and tells how he extracted twelve from one lady the day before, and is more confident than ever that he can do it; puts on his forceps and by a succession of wrenches breaks the crown of the tooth, lays it complacently on a sheet of paper, and says that is just what he most ardently desired; makes another effort, smashes the root, and with the face of an angel, tells me it's all right — that now he can do it. Here human endurance failed. I objected to any further torture, took chloroform, sank into a state of insensibility, recovered minus two teeth, and all right.

Good-bye, dear, darling mother, keep up good heart. God is merciful as well as just. Love to all the dear ones.

Affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 199-202

Elizabeth Adams Lusk to Captain William Thompson Lusk, September 17, 1862

17th. To-day our rejoicing is somewhat subdued by the news of the surrender of our forces at Harper's Ferry. Burnside's corps is said to have fought splendidly at South Mountain; Reno's Command is highly complimented, not a man faltered. I am so longing for another letter from you. I see the 79th was in the recent engagements. It seems they are always where work is to be done. I saw too that Capt. Pier, of whom I have heard Dr. Elliott speak, was slightly wounded. I trust you have escaped unhurt, that God's good angels have guarded you, and brought you safely through. I noticed the names of one or two from Co. K, 79th, among the wounded. Uncle John's faith in Gen. Pope remains firm. Mine is lost, yet I wish all to receive full justice, and am very glad to discover merit among our officers; our men are almost beyond praise.

Miss Abby Bond (Dr. Bond's daughter) is to be married to-day, to a Mr. Adriance from St. Louis. Nannie Day has come up to attend the wedding. Hunt is in good spirits this morning; he sends love, thinks you are doing great things, and hopes the ball now in motion, will move until the great end for which it was started, is accomplished. He says he sees McClellan has been under a chiropodist, and he is glad to see so glorious a result.

Again, good-bye, my own dear son. I pray that you, so marvellously preserved as a soldier of our country, may likewise always remain a soldier of the Cross. God bless you, guard you, guide you, wherever you may be.

With much love from all, I remain, my precious son,

Always your loving

Mother.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 198-9

Elizabeth Adams Lusk to Horace Barnard, September 10, 1862

Norwich, Sept. 10th, 1862.

Dear Horace:

I received your letter on Sunday morning. I am satisfied that you will manage the business intrusted to you as well as may be during these horrible times, and hope for a better future. I am sad, sick, despairing. Fifteen months ago I gave my son, my only one, to serve his country as he best might. How faithful he has been his General has testified. He has fought in five large battles and in ten or twelve small ones, not a day's respite, always at the wheel, full of hope, full of energy, sacrificing home, University honors in Berlin, all that made life lovely, to serve his country in her hour of need. Look at the result. Gen. Stevens, his good friend, the best, the bravest, the truest patriot, the courageous soldier, the great man, is sacrificed, while blundering little men who can never fill his place are for political reasons reaping honors. My son is still performing the duties of an Assistant Adjutant-General, trying, as he says, to keep the concern in motion, but with gloomy prospects when the command passes into new hands. His regiment, the 79th, is reduced from its proud array of 1000 men to a regiment of cripples — only 230 men are left, wholly, I fear hopelessly, demoralized. Oh, my God, has he not one friend who can lift a hand to help? Are his services of no value? Loyal as I have ever been, loyal as I am still, now that his kind appreciative General is gone, I would, if I could, withdraw him from the army, where the faithful servant is unnoticed, and the scheming politician receives the honors.

I have received two letters since the battles on the Rappahannock, in all of which he was engaged, through which, my God, “The God of the widow,” preserved him alive. He was “Acting A. A. General,” full of love and admiration for his General, and honored in return by his loving confidence. I now quote from his letter regarding his last battle: “Whenever anything desperate was to be performed, Kearny and Stevens were always selected, with this difference though, that Stevens was rarely credited with what he did, while Kearny's praises were very properly published. On Monday's fight, the General's son and I were walking together in the rear of the 79th Regiment, when Capt. Stevens was wounded. Finding that he was able to move off without assistance, I continued to follow the Regiment. Soon the General came up on foot. 'Have you seen your son?' I asked him. 'Yes,' said he, I know that he is wounded,' and then added, 'Capt. Lusk I wish you would pass to the left of the line, and push the men forward in that direction.' I did as I was ordered and on my return found the Gen. had been killed, and the troops badly slaughtered. The General you have read was shot while holding the flag of the 79th Regiment in his hand. There were five shot holding the same flag in about 20 minutes time. I found the sixth man standing almost alone at the edge of some woods, still clinging hopelessly to the colors. I drew him back to the crest of a hill a couple of hundred yards, and gathered a few of the 79th about it. Kearny then came riding up, and asked the name of the little band. On being told, he said, 'Scotchmen you must follow me.' They told him they had not a round of ammunition left. 'Well,' said he then, 'stand where you are, and it may be you will be able to assist my men with the bayonet.' The soldierly form moved on and it too, soon was dust. Stevens was a great man, and Kearny a courageous soldier.”

If these incidents would interest the public, and Mr. Godwin is inclined to publish them I have no objection; you may do as you like. I wish the country knew all that occurred on those battlefields. The truth is beginning to dawn. I have written a long letter. Will is still at the Headquarters of the 1st Division, Reno's Command. He shudders at the thought of returning to his Regiment. The General and all the best friends of the 79th felt that it had suffered so much from constant active service, was so terribly decimated, and so demoralized from the loss of officers, it should be recalled from the service. If my son has friends who can help, beg them to think of him now — his General killed, his intimate friends wounded, Major Matteson, his tried friend, dead of typhoid fever — his cup is more than full, and my heart is ready to burst with its grief for him.

Well, good-bye; give much love to all who care for us, and believe me,

Truly yours,

E. F. Lusk.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 193-5