Wintheop, July 7, 1862.
My last date from you is Fair Oaks, June 25th. How much has
happened to you since then! I am very anxious to hear from you. I dread to look
at the papers, lest I shall see the name of some one I love among the “killed.”
I almost wish I could see yours among the “slightly wounded,” for then I could
feel that you were safe, and that I was about to see you. . . . .
I have not any decided opinion as yet on this last move. It
seems to have been that movement laid down in tactics as the most dangerous — a
change of front in the presence of the enemy.
You seem to have fought the move through like tigers,
against great odds, and have made them pay very dearly for their attempted
interruption. The Twentieth is mentioned with especial honor for its steady and
deliberate fire, etc., etc. I hope the report of “Twentieth, Captain Lowell,
killed,” may not prove true. It would be very sad to have it confirmed.
I told you in one of my last letters of the “set-back that
my leg seemed to have received. I told you it wasn't dangerous. I was right. It
has gone on mending ever since, and now I think is as well as it was before,
and I think I have less pain. So perhaps I did it good by “tapping it.” . . . .
You speak of my leaving the Twentieth. Many friends here
have offered to use their influence to place me at the head of one of the new
regiments. I have been very grateful for the offers, of course, but have
invariably discountenanced them. You know that I had rather be a captain in the
Twentieth than colonel of any regiment that may be raised.
Promotion in the Twentieth would have been very pleasant to
me when it brought me nearer you. But, since the 21st of October last, my
happiness could not have been increased by the addition of the golden leaf.
No man is half a soldier who does not seek promotion, but if
mine should be occasioned by the execution of your oft-uttered threat, to “leave
the service when Richmond is ours,” I hope you will believe that it would have
lost its greatest charm.
In my heart (as I used to hint to you), I firmly believe,
and more earnestly hope, that we shall take our honorable discharges together,
when the “scarred and war-worn veterans” of the Twentieth shall be mustered out
of service on Boston Common. Nous verrons.
. . . . No one here suspects my impatience to rejoin you, or
my unfounded regrets at the tardiness of a recovery which has in fact been
unusually rapid. Such is poor human nature. . . . .
God keep you in safety through the midst of danger, is the
daily prayer of
Yours,
Frank.
SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William
Francis Bartlett, p. 49-51
