Tennallytown, D.C. Monday July 25, 1864.
Dearest Abiah,
Came in Saturday night. Yesterday signed the pay roll. Were inspected, paid off, washed up, etc. etc., received this first mail that we have received since we left Washington. Received two letters from you. Saw Jacob. Mr. Baxter came down to see us, sent thirty dollars to father for you by Mr. Baxter. I have not yet all the pay. The next time we are paid shall square up for the year. I wrote you at Poolsville, again up in Snicker’s Gap. A few minutes I wrote here yet on the envelope of the last letter were ordered to cross the Shenandoah, did so and went about 1 ½ miles. Staid a short time and were ordered to start immediately for the Gap and to wait until the troops came up, then to start for Chain Bridge, so back across the river we went. We had not got dry for the first crossing. It was after sun down, so into the river we went, crossed, stopped, wrung our stockings, got the sand and gravel out of our shoes, went to the top of the mountain, or rather into the Gap at the same spot where we laid at the time I wrote my letter, and there we found the train passing and it kept passing for three long hours. Had had a shower, the air chilly for a man in dry clothes, and we were as wet as the Shenandoah could make us and I had the sick head ache. The road or rather the woods on each side were swarming with guerillas. Moseby with quite a force had sworn he would have our train over on the Potomac north of Leesburgh. I did not care a fif for guerillas, it was just such a thing as I liked, but that head ache and all those wet men already tired out and crossing the river, some of them their shoes worn out, clothes wet, stockings and shoes full of sand and gravel, that was rather a gloomy aspect. At the end of three hours the troops came along, and we shouldered our knapsacks and started. The cattle have to be driven outside the road where we can go. So down the hill we went thundering along. Had not gone more than two miles before the head ache had all gone, never felt better in my life.
At day light we were near Purcellsville, stopped, made some coffee, found some cows, had some milk, did not leave any cows. The troops came on. They had orders not to stop and did not stop until we reached Leesburgh about 10 o’clock A.M. There was as weary a set of men as I ever saw, got coffee and started on, crossed Goose Creek, where we stopped for the night. Such feet I never saw upon men. Mine were all right, except an aching through the bones of the feet that reminded me of your feet when we were at Salem. They ached like the tooth ache. Is that the way they feel? Herded our cattle into a yard, slept in the barn with plenty of hay, and had just as fine a night’s rest as was ever enjoyed by anybody from the days of Adam down to the present time. The next morning I felt like I could travel 50 miles. Have not a doubt but what I could have done it, but it was not so with the regiment. It was terrible. The troops marched slowly, and came within nine miles of Chain Bridge. The next day came here. It was about 5 o’clock when we came in, glad enough to rest. I have told you what we did; yesterday, it was Sunday has generally been a day of rest with us, but yesterday was a day of business, no marching though. I am well, and as though in a knot.
Henry Newcomb has just been down to see me. I did not see him until he got right upon me seated flat on the ground inditing this sheet. I have given you a rough sketch of our march. By looking upon the map you can get an idea of the ground gone over. As I came along there were many things occurred that I thought would go into my next letter to you, but I will lie upon the floor some night and tell you all about it. The night you was wishing me good rest I slept on a gravelly knoll and some rye that was brought out of an adjoining field. It was as fine grain as I ever saw. There was a large wheat and rye field cleared that night for beds, winter wheat as nice as you ever saw. Our division was in the rear, That day; there was some fighting that night. Zopher saw it. I do not believe it is possible for me ever to get into a fight. There have been several times when we expected to be engaged, but it has all passed away like a morning fog. I have been in hearing of a few minnies. Have occasionally been shelled, but have not had a chance to know whether I shall be good for anything or not. I can march and sleep in almost any position and any kind of bed that I can be placed in, but have not had the sight of my gun on a Johnnie yet. I suppose you do not care if I ever do, if they, by that want of occasion, never sight me.
The prisoners are on first rate terms with us. Are just as sociable and friendly as men ever are. That is enough to convince anyone that in case peace ever comes there will be no enmity. If Jef Davis and a few of his fire eating friends were out of the way, there would be the best of good feeling established in a short time. I want to see that 500,000 men in the field. Hope they will be a little better than the 100 days men. They think they only came out to occupy the forts, while others were away not to defend them. They are much worse than nothing in a fight. These men are good enough when they have a chance to fight with other troops, but their officers are so afraid before their time is out, that they are no better than wooden men. The 11th Regiment has today been detached from the Brigade and gone into the forts. I pity those boys. They have marched with us on this last trip with long faces. Our boys laugh at them on every occasion. As they pass the boys sing out to them “How are you, heavies,” etc. etc. They take it all in sober
earnest, and want to know how it is the old Brigade boys are so down upon them. I am glad for their sakes that they have gone into the forts. Hope they will keep them there. Am sorry that those boys that were taken prisoners were not here to go with them, but the fort is not the place for me. I think that the 11th will give a good account of itself, if the Rebs ever try Washington again. You may perhaps be anxious to know where we are going. Of that I can give you no account. There are a thousand rumors as usual, but we are here tonight, may be in the morning, may be no.
