camp Near Edinburg, April 9, 1862.
Scene, camp, snowing and raining, and blowing
angrily; Time, Tuesday morning. The Major Second Massachusetts Regiment
enters his tent, shaking the dripping oil-skin cap and India-rubber clothing.
He discovers John, his John, surnamed Strong i’ the arm, or Armstrong, digging
a hole within the damp tent to receive some coals from the hickory fire that is
trying to blaze without. John (loquitur). Sogering is queer business,
sir. M. Yes, John. J. But it's hard, too, sir, on them that
follers it. M. Yes, John. J. It's asy for them as sits to home,
sir, by the fire, and talks about sogers and victories, very fine and asy like.
It's little they know of the raal work, sir. M. Yes, John. J. ’T
wouldn't be quite the same, sir, if they was out here theirselves trying to
warm theirselves at a hole in the ground, sir. M. No, John. Then the
coals are brought on, and a feeble comfort is attained. The woods are heavy
without with snow and ice. In the afternoon I visit the pickets, and spend a
chilly and wearisome day. This morning is again like yesterday. –––, who has
shown himself a trump in our recent
exigencies, but who has certain eccentricities of manner and speech, came to
breakfast this morning, rubbing his hands and saying, “You wouldn't hardly know
that this was the South if you did n't keep looking on the map, would you? hey?
What say?”
Since I wrote the above I have spent two hours in the
hail-storm visiting pickets. This, then, is an invasion of the South, query?
We receive this morning news of the capture of Island No.
10, and the defeat of Beauregard.
Westward the star of — victory takes its way. How long can
this thing last? Is it not collapsing with occasional throes of vigor, and are
not these spasms the twitchings that precede death? I cannot say. But of one
thing I am sure, that it will be warmer farther south; so I wish to go there.
It is a week that we have hesitated on the bank of this stony creek; soon we
will move on. Our signal-station on the neighboring mountain can see Jackson's
camps beyond Mount Jackson, and his wagons, with teams hitched, ready to move
at a moment's notice. We can advance again at any moment, by a prolonged
skirmish.
I wish you all at home much better weather than we have, and
the same peace and quietness.
SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and
Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 230-1
