Did ever husband and
father need the comforting aid of the help-meets of home as I need them this
evening? See my table. Six full foolscap sheets of letters
from home—read, re-read, studied, spelled, and now to be answered.
I wonder if any body ever imagines the value of a letter to a soldier. His
power of estimating must be large indeed, if he can appreciate it. Were it not
for this value I should never have the courage to attempt answering all this
pile. But then, I have no room to arrange all these with a
view to replies, for my whole tent is as crowded as my table, full of evidences
of the kindness—I will dare to say, of the affection of so many of my kind
lady-friends. The dictates of kindness and benevolence may crowd upon you
articles of comfort and utility, but it requires the affections to indicate the
numerous little tokens which peep from the packages of useful things now piled
around my tent. They strengthen and they cheer me. I shall endeavor, right
here, to make myself worthy of all this confidence. What a field this is for
the exercise of the "unseen heroism" of life!
But how in the name
of Legerdemain do our friends contrive to get so many things into a little box?
Why, my 10x10 tent is absolutely full. It is well, too, that the box was opened
just to-day, for things in it were getting considerably "mixed." Two
or three preserve and jelly jars, and a bottle of pickles had been broken. The
contents had escaped, and to make amends for their long confinement, like colts
let loose, they ran considerably. The pickles had "pitched into" the
sugar. The jelly had made a dash at the tea. The nutmegs were luxuriating in a
mixture of preserves and coffee. There seemed to be an inclination amongst
these belligerents to get into "a muss" generally; but I
"offered mediation." After two or three hours of back-ache work, I
got the conglomerates restored to their original elements, and gave the men a
look at them. They were gratified and thankful. I do not think one man looked
on one of these evidences of home rememberance but felt strengthened in his
resolves to perform manfully the duties which he had undertaken.
Yesterday we had the
first fight worthy the name, since we joined the army. General McCall sent out
a Brigade (about 4,000 men) to reconnoitre. They came upon an equal number of
the enemy, and after taking a good look at each other, concluded to "go
in." In this fight we gained a decided victory. No mistake this time. We
fought and won.
We lost a few men—about
ten killed and some thirty wounded. Amongst the latter is Lieutenant Colonel
Kane of the Pennsylvania "Buck Tails." He is a brother of the late
Doctor Kane, of the Arctic Expedition.*
Yesterday a few
Surgeons met in my tent and gave expressions to their feelings against a
self-constituted organization calling itself the "U. S. Sanitary
Commission." I have had very little acquaintance with its members, or with
its mode of doing business. From the almost universal prejudice which the
Surgeons have against it, I infer that it must possess many bad or troublesome
traits of character. I have naturally enough imbibed impressions which are
anything but favorable in regard to it. At our little talk, yesterday, it was
determined amongst us that the Commission must be "written down." I
am selected to do the writing, my professional brothers to furnish the data.
This morning I commenced my first article, but before it was finished, the roar
of cannon and the bursting of shells arrested my attention, and I left my
writing to watch the progress of the battle of Drainesville [sic]. In a little while, the wounded
began to be brought in, and the whole being new to us, the Surgeons, now, for
the first, began to examine their stores and appliances for wounded men. We had
very few things which we needed, and whilst mourning over the delay necessary
to procure them from Washington (some 9 miles distant) the agents of this
Commission, having got wind of the progressing fight, had loaded up light wagons
with their sanitary stores and rushed to the scene of suffering with the very
things most needed. I confess that I feel a little ashamed to have been caught
in the act of writing such an article, under such ci[r]cumstances. Something
good may come out of Nazareth yet. I think I shall wait and see, rather than be
induced by the prejudices or opinions of others, to commit an act, perhaps a
wrong, which I may be sorry for.
_______________
* Battle of
Dranesville.
SOURCE: Alfred L.
Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of
Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B.
McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day
January, 1863, p. 66-9
