Near Chaffin's Bluff, on James River, Va.,
August 8, 1864.
The weather for the last few days has been intensely hot. It
is very dry, and I hope we shall soon have some rain. My health is excellent.
We get plenty of blackberries, and all we need is plenty of sugar to go with
them.
I expect we shall soon go back to Petersburg, but I am
informed that Kershaw's Brigade and several thousand cavalry have left for the
Valley. This indicates that the seat of war may soon be around Washington
instead of Richmond. I hope we will not be sent to the Valley again, for I detest
those tedious marches. However, I am willing to do anything to whip out the
Yankees.
Matters are comparatively quiet at present, although we hear
more or less cannonading somewhere every day. At this moment I hear the
booming of cannon away down on the James River. We are so quiet now that we
have nothing to think about but home and our loved ones.
Word was sent from the headquarters of Wilcox's Brigade to
McGowan's that a negro was captured at Petersburg the day Grant's mine was
sprung (July 30), who claims to belong to a medical officer of McGowan's
Brigade. On the provost marshal's register is the name of "William Wilson
of New York.” He always claimed that to be his name. I believe it may be my
servant, Wilson. If so, the remarkable part of it is that he was captured
charging on our breastworks. If I get him, I shall regard him as something of a
curiosity in the future.
I received more pay on the 5th, and will send you one or two
hundred dollars. I sent Bob the ten dollars for your catskin shoes. I bought an
excellent pair of pants from the quartermaster for $12.50. They are made of
merino wool. We shall soon have some fine gray cloth issued to the brigade for
officers' uniforms. There will not be enough for all, so we will draw lots for
it. If I am lucky enough to get any, I will send it to you.
I am very anxious to get a long letter from you giving me
all the news. When I can hear from you regularly and know that you are safe and
well, I feel satisfied.
SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A
Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 103-5