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A Merry Christmas to You, Your Family and Loved Ones!
Every year I try to find something that ties Christmas to our passion for the Civil War. This year, I thought I would endeavor to track down some letters from the soldiers to their loved ones to provide some perspective for all of us as we celebrate the season. Here are some that I found on-line. Please join me in posting Christmas letters you have seen in this thread:
The Following Letters Were Posted on the Civil War Talk Forum in December of 2005: https://civilwartalk.com/threads/christmas-letters.5619/
Camp near Fred'burg
Dec 25th, 1862
My dear Sister
This is Christmas Day. The sun shines feebly through a thin cloud, the air is mild and pleasant, [and] a gentle breeze is making music through the leaves of the lofty pines that stand near our bivouac. All is quiet and still, and that very stillness recalls some sad and painful thoughts.
This day, one year ago, how many thousand families, gay and joyous, celebrating Merry Christmas, drinking health to absent members of their family, and sending upon the wings of love and affection long, deep, and sincere wishes for their safe return to the loving ones at home, but today are clad in the deepest mourning in memory to some lost and loved member of their circle. If all the dead (those killed since the war began) could be heaped in one pile and all the wounded be gathered together in one group, the pale faces of the dead and the graons of the wounded would send such a thrill of horror through the hearts of the originators of this war that their very souls would rack with such pain that they would prefer being dead and in torment than to stand before God with such terrible crimes blackening their characters. Add to this the cries and wailings of the mourners - mothers and fathers weeping for their sons, sisters for their brothers, wives for their husbands, and daughters for their fathers - [and] how deep would be the convictions of their consciences.
Yet they do not seem to think of the affliction and distress they are scattering broadcast over the land. When will this war end? Will another Christmas roll around and find us all wintering in camp? Oh! That peace may soon be restored to our young but dearly beloved country and that we may all meet again in happiness.
But enough of these sad thoughts. We went on picket in town a few days ago. The pickets of both armies occupy the same positions now as they did before the battle. Our regt was quartered in the market place while the others occupied stores and private houses. I have often read of sacked and pillaged towns in ancient history, but never, till I saw Fredricksburg, did I fully realize what one was. The houses, especially those on the river, are riddled with shell and ball.
The stores have been broken open and deprived of every thing that was worth a shilling. Account books and nots and letters and papers both private and public were taken from their proper places and scattered over the streets and trampled under feet. Private property was ruined. Their soldiers would sleep in the mansions of the wealthy and use the articles and food in the house at their pleasure. Several houses were destroyed by fire. Such a wreck and ruin I never wish to see again.
Yet notwithstanding all this, the few citizens who are now in town seem to be cheerful and perfectly resigned. Such true patriots are seldom found. This will ever be a noted place in history.
While we were there, Brig Genl Patrick, U.S.A., with several of his aides-de-camp, came over under flag of truce. Papers were exchanged, and several of our men bought pipes, gloves, &c from the privates who rowed the boat across. They had plenty of liquor and laughed, drank, and conversed with our men as if they had been friends from boyhood.
There is nothing new going on. I am almost dead to hear from home. I have received no letters in nearly three weeks, and you can imagine how anxious I am. The mails are very irregular. I hope to get a letter soon. Dunlap Griffin is dead, died in Richmond of wounds received in the last battle. Capt Hance is doing very well. Frank Fleming is in bad condition. (He has been elected lieutenant since he left.)
Write to me quick right off. I wish to hear from you badly. Remember me to my friends and relatives, especially the Pickens and Ligons. Hoping to hear from you soon I remain
Your bud
Tally
~ ~ ~
"Far, Far From Home" (Tally Simpson, 3rd South Carolina Volunteer)"
Christmas Eve 1862 found Union Brigadier General John Geary in Fairfax Station, Virginia, nearing the end of his convalescence from a wound he had received at Cedar Mountain in August. He took some time to offer holiday and fatherly advice to his daughter at home in Pennsylvania: My Dear Little Pet:
"On this Christmas Eve I have no doubt you have been enjoying yourself, perhaps with the toys of the season, eaten your nuts and cakes, hung up your stockings in the chimney corner for old Kris Kinkle, when he comes along with his tiny horses, "Dunder and Blixen" and his little wagon to fill in Lots and Gobs of sweet things, sugar, candy sugar plums, and if you please, sugar every thing. Well, When I was a little boy, a good many years ago, I was fond of such things myself. And when I look back, they were indeed the happiest days of my life. Enjoy them my little "Pet"--they come but once. The boys, I mean the two Willies, are getting too old for the enjoyment you can have. When ignorance is bliss `tis folly to be wise. I wish you a Merry Christmas and many of them. I must close. There is a lot of soldiers at my door giving me a serenade and I must give it some attention."
Your affectionate Papa
~ ~ ~
Letter From Unknown Confederate Soldier- 1864
(printed from America's Memories)
Nashville Tenn Jany 5th 64
Friend Ettie
I believe I am not indebted to you by way of letter, but for your kindness to me I will write you a few lines. On New Year's day about one o-clock I received a verry nice gift which I appreciated verry much. It was the only gift that I received, and on that account realize its worth. You have my heartfelt thanks for your kindness and remembrance of a Soldier.
It is quite cool Weather here now and some snow upon the ground but not enough to make sleighing. I wish I wish I were in Hillsdale today I think I would call around to friend Ettie and go out a Sleighing. I get lonesome sometimes and I not know what to do, if I ever get out of the Service alive I am agoing to settle down and get married.
What a novel Idea that is, perhaps you will not believe it but I am not joking. I am not quite an old Bach yet but I fear I will be before long. If you know of some good looking amiable young Lady that wish to change her situation in life, just mention the fact to her, and tell her there is a Soldier in the Army that wishes to marry in less than two years after his time expires in the Army.
Enclosed you will find the likeness of your unknown Correspondent which you will please accept, with the kindest regards.
I am yours
verry truly
~ ~ ~
"Christmas, December 25, 1863
Bright Merry Christmas is here again, and so am I, right in the breezy woods to enjoy it, unhampered by the restraints of custom, the fetters of fashion, and thraldom of etiquette, ready and willing to hide away a first-class Christmas dinner if I had it. I am glad I am alive and whole, for during this year many a poor soldier whose sun of life glowed in the very zenith of manhood and glory was cut down and immolated on the altar of his country, like the full blown rose that sacrifices and casts its beauteous and fragrant petals on the altar of the passing storm. At sunrise this morning we fired two rounds from our guns in commemoration of the birth of Him who said, "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you, not as the world giveth."
The menu of our Christmas dinner was composed wholly of beef with gravy and corn bread. Our mess was afraid to try anything new, as it might throw us headlong on the sick list in the busy season of house building. I was hard at work all day, getting raw material for the business end of our culinary department."
~ ~ ~
Camp near Dinwiddie Court House
December 26, 1864
Dear Martha,
Your letter came to hand a few days since and I am now seated to answer. I have but little news times is very dull out here yesterday was the most quiet day we have had for some time. The soldiers all look sad and lonely. We have nothing spiritual or refreshing in camp. Have not see one case of intoxification during our Christmas holiday. All is calm on the lines in front of Petersburg and Richmond, except some little picket firing on Saturday night. I have a splendid cain and am living quite comfortable at present. Rations are rather scanty.
I have not heard from your Pa since he went to hospital at Staunton. I saw him on the cars, he had measles, but was getting on fine, he told me he would write to me as soon as I wrote to him. I have wrote but have not had time to get an answer.
Mat - I hope you are having a good time today taking Christmas. I am passing it off writing my friends. We had drill this morning. What has become of Fannie? I have not heard from her in some time. You must offer my highest regards to all the girls. I hope I will get off home before the winter breaks. I want to come home very bad this Christmas. Tell "Tee" if I get to come home he and I will start up some Christmas--if it is only to go out and hunt rabbits and know there is a heap of squirrels and other wild game up there. Robert you must be a smart boy while your Papa is gone.
How is my little namesake getting on? Is he most as large as you "Tee"? Polly, your brother Calvin is in my company well and harty, except he sometimes complaining with reumatism in his legs. He seams to be pretty well satisfied for a soldier. I hope you are well. I must close as I have nothing worth notice on hand. My love and best wishes to all the children. Remember me kindly to all who make an inquery if there be any. May heavens best blessings be always with you all.
Yours affectionatly,
Jasper
~ ~ ~
The following was written in December, 1863 by "Manton", a pseudonym for a correspondent to the Danbury Times during the Civil War. "Manton" wrote a letter for virtually every edition of the paper while the Seventeenth was in the field. "High Private Manton", "H.P. Manton" and "Manton" were all pen names of James Montgomery Bailey, a member of Company C.
"Manton's" description of Christmas 1863 at Folly Island, South Carolina.
Life in the Seventeenth
No. 23
Our Christmas
Holidays will come, you know, and if they do come, why they have got to be attended to. So much fussing and landangling, so much beer and whiskey to be drunk, so much yelling and singing to be gone through whether or no. A friend confidently told me that Christmas came but once a year and I determined to profit by the hint.
By order of Gen. Gilmore and the Orderly I was put on guard yesterday, cautioned to look after the interest of the Country at large, and keep sober. Determined that the Country should not suffer through my negligence, and indignantly refuted all idea of getting drunk. Night came, and Christmas Eve in all its primitive and gorgeous and oriental and magnificent and munificent and beautiful and glorious and splendiferous and South Carolina robes was upon us.
When darkness had settled down on the tapering and graceful sand ridge of Folly Island, the inhabitants thereof concluded that the set time had come, and everybody that was able to go in went in forthwith. N.B.---Now for a bit of sentiment. The heavens were devoid of clouds and comets. Perfectly transparent was the azure dome, and sparkling in myriads of Republican stars. Proudly through this brilliant host sailed the queenly queen of night, showering a million rays of soft lustrous glory, over the verdant foliage and white palaces of the private martyrs of the gallant Seventeenth.
How's that, eh? That "private martyrs" ain't bad, considering. And now leaving the prostrated reader to admire the aforementioned high-falutin, I will give you Mr. Times, a brief description of our unequalled camp. Co.'s E, G, B, and K, of the right wing have their streets hedged tastefully with young spruces and pines, slightly interspersed with a long leafed shrub, beautiful to look at, but very aggravating on a too close acquaintance, each leaf being pointed to the intensity of a needle, and safely calculated to pierce sheet iron.
Although not knowing the name of the plant, yet I flatter myself that I am thoroughly acquainted with the points of things by regularly falling over it three times a day. The entrances to their respective streets are overhung with beautiful arches of evergreens, enclosing well-made wreaths, and pretty festoons of the same material. Co.'s C, F, A, and H are similarly decorated. Co.'s G and K, occupy the central street, in the centre of which, a few feet back from the line is a double arch of lofty size, with the word CONSTITUTION, prettily worked in it.
On the line, and on each side of the street, is a juvenile arch with a wreath in the centre, holding the letter of the Company. The devices are quite unique, and taken together form quite an imposing and picturesque front. Co.'s B, and G, are of the Gothic turn. Co. F---Norwalk---have three fine looking arches, one large and two lesser ones, with correspondingly sized wreaths. The centre contains their letter, and the two others stars. Co. F have also erected a palmetto dining room, and through the indefatigable efforts of their Captain---Allen--- have the satisfaction of taking the lead of the other Companies in this modern convenience.
Today they had a fine dinner served up in the new building, to which I was most kindly invited by Sergeant Oscar St. John, who will please accept my thanks for the seasonable remembrance. A table bountifully loaded with a pleasant variety of substantials extended the length of the room. A half "shelter" with the following inscribed in green leaves was stretched against the wall above the head of the table:
"A MERRY CHRISTMAS"
Co. F
Below it was their Company flag, festooned quite handsomely, and flanked by tasty wreaths of cedars, containing stars of holly. On the opposite wall were similar wreaths surmounted by a cross. I shall not soon forget the pleasing effects of that dinner taken with the bonnie boys of Co. F, not least among whom is little Johnny Bulger with his laughing face. May our next Christmas be eaten within Connecticut lines.
The Hospital and Doctor's headquarters have been handsomely arched, wreathed, festooned and otherwise decorated under the superintendence of Charley Rhan, ho has shown in the effect that he is by no means adept in floral architecture. I am sorry to say that Dr. Gregory is unwell, but we trust soon to see him among us again. His place is temporarily filled by Doctor Shaw of the 41st N.Y., who, I hear, is giving satisfaction with his mixtures. Sammy Barnum is now Hospital Steward.
And now we come to something nice in the quarters of our jolly Drum corps. Imagine four tents on a slight eminence, topped with cedar boughs, and connected together by an evergreen cable, a railing in front also evergreened, surrounded by young pines and holly, and with a pretty arched stairway leading up to the whole, which is tastefully interspersed with handsome wreaths, and loyal stars. Also from out first arch hangs a suspended banner, bearing the following worked in leaves:
17th C.V.
DRUM CORPS,
Union
The drummers tents are as tidy and cozy inside, as they are beautiful without, and the boys being a reserved set of cusses, my grave disposition leads me quite frequently among them.
Long live those musical beings, the only objection I have to whom is the sad repetition of their "calls." But time, my twenty months, will obliterate all such impressions.
Henry Huss, one of them, has drawn a faithful picture of what I have been kindly describing to you. Possibly it may be further illustrated, when you will do well to secure a copy. But I must close now. Every thing is considered lovely by the knowing ones in Camp, and hereabouts. The sutlers from one end of the Island to the other were painfully drunk last night. I was on post from 12 to 2 o'clock dead of night---countersign was all correct, so was I. Several tents were burning lights, whose occupants were not all correct.
Walking my beat in pensive mood, I thought of crowds gathered in certain places in Beaner, and of certain young men who have not yet escaped minority, wandering on Main Street with heavy coat-tail pockets, a Germanic way of conversation, and a tendency to yell at everything, and hug lamp posts.
Suddenly I heard something and casting a heavy glance into the dim darkness, I saw a party approach; looked at them again, and concluded they must be a remnant of Franklyn's Arctic Expedition. Halted them, and after the usual preliminaries got the countersign. While passing by, the most inebriate of the lot, if there could be any distinction, affectionately asked if I were drunk. Angered by the unjust hint, I turned the entire party over to the mercy of the Guards, and fifteen minutes after an amicable settlement was made, and we all -----, but I must not let out the secrets of the guards. It isn't military. It is Christmas night, Tom Hern is talking of canteens, and I must close while I ----
Christmasly Yours,
"MANTON"
"The Seventeenth Connecticut Volunteer Infantry"
~ ~ ~
CHARLESTON MERCURY, December 30, 1861, p. 1, c. 3
Richmond, December 25.
Christmas, the fire-cracker Sunday of the year, dawns as brightly as heart could wish. There is anything else than "peace on earth and good will to men," yet the present situation and the prospect before us afford ample cause for gratitude. We are not perhaps so well off as we might have been, but are intact as a nation, and after many months of war with a people much superior to ourselves in numbers and resources, have proved our ability to maintain our independence. Of course, there were egg-nog parties all over the town last night. "It was the custom of my ancestors," said a friend, at whose foaming bowl your correspondent presented himself, "and I intend to keep it up, whether I am able or not, war or no war." Military Christmas gifts are all the go among children, judging from the number of little boys in the street this morning with drums swung from their necks. . . . Hermes.
SAVANNAH [GA] REPUBLICAN, December 25, 1863, p. 2, c.1
~ ~ ~
"A Merry Christmas?"
Ah! no. We cannot find it in our heart to utter such a wish in these solemn times. The day for merriment wish to [illegible] a people has passed. We are dealing with the fearful realities of blood. We are in the midst of a revolution and the angel of death and desolation stalks abroad through the land. Brother is in arms against brother, a deadly and terrific strife, on the part of one for liberty and his own fireside—on the part of the other for vengeance, subjugation and a remorseless tyranny. Nearly every household in the land is clad in mourning for dear ones departed; want and distress extend their bony arms and embrace thousands upon thousands of a once happy and contented people; avarice wields its might sceptre among us and bring low the widow and the orphan, the naked shoulders of our brave troops are bared to the rude blasts of winter, and their shoeless feet crimson the frozen earth on the battle-field and the march.
Verily, this is no time for rejoicing, for present making, for the revelry usually [illegible line in fold of paper] the sun of 1863 goes down in blood, and the stoutest heart must grow sad when it sees his sickly lingering rays cast athwart a land [illegible] by the tread of hostile armies and resounding with the lamentations of the [illegible]. We hope nobody will have or desire a merry Christmas.
The close of another year is an occasion for reflection, for good deeds to the public, for repentance of our manifold shortcomings, for resolutions of amendment, less selfishness and more patriotism for the future—and for solemn invocation of the Most High to watch, [illegible], reform, protect, and guide us in all our struggles to come.
Thus improved, the Christmas of 1863 will rise upon a precious incense to Heaven, and call down its mercies and blessings upon this suffering land of the South. In the stead of jollification and mirth, we wish for all our readers that quiet but happy contentment of having discharged their whole duty at a time when God and our country required no [illegible] at their [illegible].
"Civil War Newspapers"
~ ~ ~
PEORIA (IL) MORNING MAIL, December 28, 1862, p. r, c. 2-3
Letter from "B. Sharp."
High Mass at St. Mary's.
Editor Mail:--I have hitherto done little but find fault with the musical arrangements of the churches of this city, and really feel a little ashamed of myself; but I cannot help it, for, first, I think the fault-finding is "called for," and second, it is my privilege, as a "confirmed old maid," to find fault, and I shall exercise my prerogative as I think it is deserved. I am one of those unfortunately constituted individuals known as "nervous," and, to save my life, it is impossible for me to quietly listen to a constant succession of "unresolved discords," or the promiscuous "coming in" of the various voices of a choir—out of tune and out of time,--as it would be for me to be easy when tormented with a raging toothache. Patience is a cardinal virtue, but in the above cases the supply is not equal to the demand.
For a number of years I have been in the habit, on Christmas morning, to attend the early service of the Catholic church. On this, the greatest festival of the year, no pains or expense is spared to render the service as imposing as possible, and as music enters very largely into the Catholic order of worship, it is on this occasion, generally, of the highest order. In the metropolitan churches the choirs are strengthened by the addition of at least a quartette of professional vocalists, and also full orchestra is called into requisition. Then and there can the lover of music enjoy a rich repast in listening to the artistic rendering of the sublime works of Haydn, Mozart, and some of the more modern masters.
But in this city I did not expect all this, and therefore, when in company with some friends, we left our comfortable firesides, and encountered the storm and midnight darkness of Christmas, in our visit to the midnight service at St. Mary's church, it was not with the expectation of listening to the artistic, finished performance of the cathedral choir, but I did expect something—perhaps simple and easy of execution, but still tolerable.
The choir commenced the service with the good old hymn, Adeste Fidelis, during the performance of which, I found that a large proportion of the singers were Soprano—and some very good voices, too,--the Alto very fair in one or two instances, the Tenor and Bass I did not sufficiently distinguish to note peculiarities. The organ—a sweet-toned little instrument—was very clumsily handled, or else the accompaniment to the Adeste has been most unharmoniously altered. Then followed the commencement of the Mass,--the Kyrie Eleison.
The music was not familiar to me, but struck me as being very peculiar in its composition, or else _____. Then followed the joyful "song of the angels"—the Gloria in Excelsis—the opening strain of which was unmistakably familiar—it cannot be mistaken when once heard.
I listened attentively for what followed. Surely, that strain was the commencement of the Gloria of Haydn's Third Mass—the Imperial—but where was the balance? It must be that some scribbler has surreptitiously appropriated that much to his own base use, or else the choir of St. Mary's have, in this instance, done what so many aspiring church choirs have before this accomplished in the same way—undertook more than they could succeed in doing well and made a signal failure.
During the entire service that little organ was not quiet for a moment, but persisted in "showing off" its capabilities of murdering harmony, and of putting in defiance all known and acknowledged musical laws. I verily expected it would attempt to accompany the sermon, but to my great joy it ceased its idle clamor at the moment the reverend father ascended the pulpit, but only to collect strength to commence with renewed vigor the moment the sermon was ended. I think the organist of St. Mary's is determined to earn his salary, and to that end has concluded to make up in quantity of his performance what he lacks in quality.
Myself and friends did not stay to hear the conclusion of the musical (?) portion of the service, but elbowed our way through the throng of worshippers, there assembled, and sought our homes.
Now, Mr. Editor, I wish to know why it is that second rate choirs will, on all occasions like the present, almost invariably attempt more than they have the ability to accomplish? Why can they not be satisfied with less difficult music? There is plenty of easy music of a very pleasing style for the use of Catholic choirs—Masses by Peters, Webbe, LaHache, and very many others—the tasty performance of which will give good satisfaction to all, both performers and listeners, and the choir of St. Mary's would do well to practice such and such only.
If you have no Tenor—and Tenors are hard to find—get the three part Masses of LaHache, for Soprano, Alto, and Bass, which are very pretty and not difficult of execution, and if your organist is capable of performing well his part, you will in good time, by much practice, furnish a style of music gratifying to your honored pastor, to the congregation, and to yourselves, but until then the music will be, as it was on Christmas morning, a FAILURE.
Yours,
"Civil War Newspapers"
~ ~ ~
SUMMARY: Letter written to P.H. Powers' wife wishing her a merry Christmas and informing her that the Confederates had whipped Burnside at Fredericksburg and are now hoping for a peaceful separation with the Union.
Dec 25th 1862 Mrs P.H. Powers Care of Dr A.L. Baldwin Winchester, Virginia
Wife Camp Near Fredricksburg
Dec 25th 1862
My Dearest Wife
I hardly have the heart to wish you a Merry Christmas this beautiful Christmas Morning because I will know merriment is not for you this day but I can and do wish you a happy day and the same to our little dears, who I suppose must be content with very meager gifts and very few sweet things. I thought of them when I first awoke this morning about day. And wondered what you managed to put in their stockings. Memory went back to the many happy Christmas days we have shared together with them. Alas will the good old times ever return again? And you and I with our little ones dwell together in peace? I hope so. I believe so, but the heart sickens with the deferred hope.
So I have been Jim's chief cook for a week since his servant left. Not much time was given me this morning for such sad affections, with the responsibilty of a Christmas breakfast on my mind. So I stirred myself from a warm bed (end of sentence deleted). A Major Quartermaster to a Captain (word missing) but necessity is a hard master. And you know I can do anything. I am a better cook than Steven. I wish you could have been present to witness my sweets and partake of my viandes, Barbecue Rabbit, Beef Hash with Potatoes, hot bread and coffee. If the darkies all learn as I shall be able to (illegible word) some assistance. We are very comfortable in camp. have good tents, and wood is in abundance to keep off the frost. I have been axcidingly busy for the last week assisting Jim in paying off the troops and really he needed it. He worries at every thing. Allows every (illegible word) to suffer his equanimity and makes himself (illegible phrase). I wish from my heart he could get out of the Department he is in. Though I see no hope for him.
He had a letter from Robert yesterday. All well. And nothing new. I have written you several times since I have been here but as yet have not heard from you. Continue to write some of your letters will (end of sentence cropped off.) I wrote you some account of the great fight. But you wil see from the papers how terribly whipped Burnside was, and what a commotion it has produced in Yankeedom. I think the sky brightens and our chances for peace improve. But still the war may bring on another year, or event to the end of Lincoln's term. It is as warm this morning as June. And every thing bright. If I only was with you for the day at leat I would have a happy Christmas. We are invited to dine with Tom Bullard. And I am (illegible word). I must now stop. With love to all.
Very Affectionatel Yours
P.H. Powers
~ ~ ~
George P Kersh Camp Tip Top, Pocohontas County, VA
December 25, 1861
Dear Brother
I take this opportunity to write a few lines home I received your letter dated on December 15th on the 19th and was glad to hear from you all I wrote a letter home on the 9th of December and on the 16th I suppose you did not get all the letters I wrote home Some must have been mislaid I have been writing nearly every week on an average We have been trimming and burning brush ever since the fight we had no fortifications for the canon the day of the fight we have five now we have been blockading some roads also and extended our trenches around further we will have a better chance at the yanks if they come now the brush being burnt from around our fortifications they had a better chance then we had the day of the battle they could lay behind the brush and logs concealed and when we would raise up to look for them they would fire at us they knew exactly where to look for us in the trenches we had a false alarm here last Monday we were ordered in our trenches about five o'clock in the morning all the regiments were ordered in the trenches we waited for the Yankees till about an hour by sun and no yanks come so we went home to our breakfast disappointed the way the alarm got out was that some of our men slipped the pickets that night to hunt some liquor and When they returned the pickets heard them and took them to be yanks and fired a couple rounds on them and run in no one was hurt Wm Cupps is doing pretty well now since he has been put on duty he had done no duty since he belonged to the army worth naming until a few weeks ago the Doctor would not have him on the sick list no longer so he had to go on duty Wm H Fry is well and bustling around Jacob Harvey Craun is nearly well again he is taken off the sick list and goes on duty again Adam Craun is not well & has not been for some time having a kind of diarrhea and jaundice Adison L. Hisner is has not been well for some time one of our boys named Philip Caffrey went home today with the fever the balance of our Company are well that we have here now we have none at the hospital here now Harvey Misner has gone home sick Wm Jammason had been sick getting well again The health of our regiment is improving now not as many sick as had been we have a dry Christmas here the boys had to go to work today as well as any other day we work here on Sundays too as to myself I am excused from duty to day having a bile on my leg which hurts me some otherwise I am in good health as to getting a furlough it would be impossible now as we ain't through with the work yet and look for the yanks every day towards spring probably we may get them, it is just left to the officers choice if you and (B?) should come out you may bring a flannel and cotton shirt along if you can get flannel yet if not it dont make no difference I believe that is all I want now I will answer Josey letter next
Yours respectfully
AW Kersh
~ ~ ~
Diary of Nimrod Porter, December 24, 1864.
"Nothing is safe, no help is anywhere" the emolument of war in Maury County, an excerpt from the diary of Nimrod Porter
Gen. Croxton's headquarters is in our house, with his whole brigade camped all over out yard, lots, lane and everywhere they can get near enough a fence to keep them in wood. With reluctance the Gen. Ordered the provost guard to station out their guards all around the house, but it only gave the guards a better opportunity for marauding than the common soldiers, and they made the best of it. They took all the apples out of the cellar. They broke the weatherboarding off the house for fires, burnt the yard fences, went in our smoke house and took the meat. They cooked the last old gobbler and all the chickens over a fire in the yard. They even took the boots off the blacks [i.e., slaves]. Considerable fuss over that. They should not rob the blacks. Last night they took all black Sukey's money, all my corn and what little oats I have left.
There is great tribulation in the country, stealing horses, mules, hogs, breaking in houses. The soldiers are very insulting and impose on everybody, stealing and encouraging the blacks to steal and do every manner of rascality. Nothing is safe, no help is anywhere for our unfortunate condition. All, all that we have is nearly gone. How will we live? What will we eat? I wish there was a river of fire a mile wide between the North and the South that would burn with unquenchable fury forever more and that it could never be passed to the endless ages of eternity by any living creature.
Is there no hope for this dying land?
Tomorrow is Christmas day, a bitter one for us, black or white. A grey fox ran under the kitchen walk. I shot it for dinner. We have a little parched corn.
~ ~ ~
Christmas in one Confederate household
Christmas in one Confederate household in Warren County
Civil War Journal of Lucy Virginia French.
Christmas Dec. 1864
Tonight I have but one thought—the cause of the South has gone down. The news all around us is evident of the fact. For my part I freely acknowledge that I can see no brightness now for the Confederacy. Hood has been beaten at Nashville and is now endeavoring to get out of the state, and Sherman's rapid [march] through Ga. has been successful. He being now at Savannah if he has not possession of the city. . .
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Yesterday Martha and myself worked the love long day making cakes, molasses candy, egg nogg etc. for the children must have something. I felt it a drag, all the time,—I did it from necessity. The children saw their odd cake elephants, horses, birds, old women etc. while in the process of cooking, and therefore they would not do for the nice white stockings that were put up to tempt good Santa Claus. I never was so put to it to get up something for the stockings, but I had a set of tiny coffee cups and saucers and some other little affairs which they had never seen, or forgotten—these I filled up the little girls with, and put in the boys, paper, pen, pencils, and some greenback [dollars].
They all seemed highly pleased, and enjoyed their good old pensioner used to bestow upon them. Oh! God give us peace, peace on any terms! It may be weak, but if so, Heaven forgive us! We have borne the strain so long. I took down my prayer-book and read the service of Christmas Church, with our good Bishop or Dr. Page officiating—-to recall the wreaths and emblems, to fill my soul once more with the melodious flood of the organ—the grand Te Deum— the exulting Gloria—ah! how vain! how vain! I could have wept but my tears are few nowadays, and their springs lie deep, deep. I had the same feeling today that I had when poor Capt. Spurlock was brought home dead from the slopes of Stone River. It is a strange feeling—with a depth of sadness "too deep for easing tears."
Oh! Will this strife ever be ended, or will I never be able to get out of it? Mollie came yesterday to spend her Christmas with us—I was very glad she came. Tho it is not at all like the old days—yet I wanted to have her with us. She has seen some merry Christmas days in the Forest [family] Home—will she ever see another as gay?
No! I cannot hope it. We did not hear the news of Hood's retreat until this evening—when Malone came over and told it. He has slept here every night since his fright by those bushwhackers. I do not think him in any danger from them now, but his wife is ill, and insists upon his not remaining at home at night, and I have told him he ought by all means do as she wishes..
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A Skirmish on xmas Day 1864
DECEMBER 25, 1864.-Skirmish near White's Station, Tenn.
Report of Col. John W. Noble, third Iowa Cavalry.
COL. NOBLE'S HDQRS., December 25, 1864.
My patrol of thirty men went out about White's Station this morning. There, to the number of about 100, the advance guard drove in the picket, and were captured.
A party of our flankers were also taken in. After skirmishing some time with the rebel force, the officer and the balance of the patrol came to camp. Loss, 17 men, 1 wounded, and horses, &c. Rebel loss unknown, if any. Have 150 men out to redeem the officer, if possible. I don't think [he is] to blame. The result is that of being outnumbered and outwitted, without being surprised.
The rebels were seen, but not supposed to number as many as they proved.
NOBLE, Colonel.
OR, Ser. I, Vol. 45, pt. I, p. 875.
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Excerpt from the Journal of the 4th Army Corps:
TWO MILES AND A HALF SOUTH OF LYNNVILLE, TENN. (COLUMBIA AND PULASKI TURNPIKE. )
December 25.-7 a. m., directed division commanders to march as soon as thecavalry moves and we can get the road, Gen. Beatty to one day's rations now in the haversacks of the men. We have but one day's rations now in the haversacks of the men. Our supply train breaking. This fact was reported to Gen. Thomas last night, and he was requested to allow our supply train to cross the river and come forward as soon as possible. 8 a. m., received a note from Gen. Thomas, saying that he will hurry up our train as fast as he can. 9.10 a. m., the cavalry is now out of the way, and the head of our column starts for Pulaski. 1 p. m., head of column arrives at Pulaski, having marched eleven miles since 9.10 a. m. Gen. Wilson drove the enemy's rear guard through Pulaski very rapidly, and his advance arrived at Richland Creek (in the outskirts of the town) just in time to save the bridge over the same on the Lamb's Ferry and Florence road.
The enemy had set it on fire and it was burning, and the enemy just leaving it, when his advanced regiment reached it. It was important that this bridge should be saved, as the creek is not fordable, and we would have been delayed a long time to bridge it. Citizens of Pulaski report that the enemy's pontoon train passed through Pulaski on Friday last, and that Gen. Hood intends to cross the Tennessee River at Lamb's Ferry or Florence. The Lamb's Ferry and Florence roads are the same for eighteen miles out from Pulaski, then they separate. It will not be possible to tell which road the enemy has taken until we reach the point where the roads separate. 1.15 p. m., Gen. Wilson has crossed Richland Creek and is pushing on after the enemy before him.
Our head of column is just beginning to cross the creek, and we will follow closely in support of the cavalry. We leave the turnpike at Richland Creek. The road from here is almost impassable for wagons and artillery. We will take with one battery for each division and one reserve battery, three rifle batteries we will double teams. We will also double teams for all wagons we take. Our rations are out to-night, and when we go into camp we will halt until we can get up three day's supplies. The road on the south side of Richland Creek is covered with broken down wagons, abandoned artillery, ammunition, &c., left by the enemy. He could not take them with him. Citizens say the mules were taken from these wagons to put to the enemy's pontoon train. 3.30 p. m. (two miles from Pulaski), received a dispatch from Gen. Wilson, stating that the enemy has given him a check; that he is strongly posted, with his front covered with rail barricades; that Forrest's cavalry and eight brigades of infantry are in his front, and he wishes the assistance of our infantry. We push forward as rapidly as possible as possible to Gen. Wilson's assistance. 5.30 p. m., our head of column reaches the point where Gen. Wilson was checked by the enemy, but he (the enemy) has fled, and Gen. Wilson is now pushing on.
Gen. Wilson was pushing the enemy too fast, when he (the enemy) made a counter charge and captured one gun, which now remains in his possession. We are now six miles from Pulaski, and halt for the night. Gen. Wilson is informed that we can go no further until we can get rations. 7 p. m., a train with three day's rations for us is now at Pulaski, and officers are sent forward to hurry it up as fast as possible. It cannot be up with the troops before 11 a. m. to-morrow, so bad is the condition of the roads. 10.15 p. m., received of a note from Gen. Thomas, directing us to issue three days' rations, and then push forward in support of the cavalry; that the cavalry train. (This refers to a train of three day's rations that will be in Pulaski to-morrow morning for us, and our baggage train.) It has been raining since 1 p. m. to-day, and this will make the roads even worse.
OR, Ser. I, Vol. 45, pt. I, pp. 163-164.
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Excerpt from the Report of Major-General Nathan Bedford Forrest on operations
On the morning of the 25th, after destroying all the ammunition which could not be removed from Pulaski by Gen. Hood and two trains of cars, I ordered Gen. Jackson to remain in town as long as possible and to destroy the bridge at Richland Creek after everything had passed over.
The enemy soon pressed Gen. Jackson, but he held him in check for some time, killing and wounding several before retiring. Seven miles from Pulaski I took position on King's Hill, and awaiting the advance of the enemy, repulsed him, with a loss of 150 killed and wounded, besides capturing many prisoners and one piece of artillery. The enemy made no further demonstrations during the day. I halted my command at Sugar Creek, where it encamped during the night.
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Christmas 1864, a letter from Indiana
Dec 25th. '64 to Capt. Dunn Co. E 57th Indiana
Dear Sir, I have heard that my son, David Ward, (a drafted man in your company) was killed while doing picket duty in front of Nashville on the night of the 14th instant and I wish to know where he was buried and if there was a headboard placed at his grave or any other means whereby it can be recognized so that I can obtain the body by going to Nashville. Please answer at your earliest convenience and oblige a bereaved father.
John Ward
Terre Haute, Vigo Co., Ind.
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Nashville Dispatch, December 25, 1862.
December 25, 1862 - Season's Greetings
A Merry Christmas!--In times of peace and prosperity the whole Christian world is accustomed to rejoice and be merry on this, the birthday of The Prince of Peace. Those who have an abundance of this world's goods have been accustomed
from time immemorial to give freely to those of their neighbors who have been less fortunate; while those who have had but little have given even a portion of what they had, so that all could rejoice and be glad, and sing their
Christmas carols with light hearts.
Our rejoicings to-day will necessarily be mingled with sorrows; grief for relatives and friends lost to us in this world, will mar the exuberant joy which should fill our hearts under other circumstances; and sorrow and anxiety for the absent ones will necessarily detract from the general enjoyment; yet should we rejoice; do you ask why? —look around you, and see how many thousands are suffering all the afflictions you endure, and, in addition, all the pangs of hunger and cold, the burning fever, the cold chill, the racking pain, and the various heartburnings and anxieties of the widowed mother in poverty. Of your means, therefore, give freely to the poor to-day, and you will have just cause to rejoice that AlmightyGod has thus blessed you and enabled you to make glad the hearts of some one or more of His suffering creatures on this the annual festival of the birth of our Redeemer. That all our readers may have cause to rejoice, we fervently pray.
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December 25th, 1864
My Dear Wife...
Again I write you a short letter which leaves myself, James D. Pounds, A. Mattox, M. F. Giddins & Wm.Anderson in good health & hope you & familley are enJoying the Same blessing I have nothing new to write you.
I am very anxious to hear of and [an] Exchange but have very little hopes of being Exchanged during the War. we are permitted to receve the papers now & have a chance of Knowing what is going on. The late arrangement entering [entered] into by the C.S. & U.S. will not lead to & Exchange. Brig Gen Beall on the part of the C.S. is now in N.Y. on Parole to carry out the arrangements on the part of the C.S. to furnish we prisoners of War with all the nessary supplies to make us comfertable. & we have Elected Col Josie of Ark & Col Healkine of Tenn & Capt Smith of Va to make a report of what we need to Gen Beall in N.Y. & Issue the Same when it arrives here. So you may not give your self any uneaseyness about us we are fairing very well now & will do better when our supplies is encreast.
I havent heard from Anderson yet & do not expect to Soon. let me Know when you write if J.M. Griffin have been heard of at home. I am still corresponding with my friend in Nashville "Tenn & will not suffer for any thing. your Uncle John Roberts is in Prison at Rock Island Ills & Bryant his son is with me & in good health Give my love to all at home & Kiss Reubin for me. I will close hoping to hear from you soon as my last was dated Oct 8th.
I Remain your Affectsionate Husband
John Wm. Hagan
P.S. this is a dull crismass day
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A Gunner in Chew's Battery, Stuart's Horse Artillery, Army of Northern Virginia:
December 25, 1862
This is Merry Christmas. This morning we resumed our march early and moved down the Valley nearly to Kernstown, where we encountered the Yankees and gave them a Christmas greeting in the shape of a few shell. We took the same position we held at the battle of Kernstown last spring. About sixty sharpshooters advanced on our position and attempted to drive us away. We opened fire on them with two guns and fired three rounds, which thoroughly settled the sharpshooting business for this Christmas. Their line fell back in a rather stirred-up mixture, and that was the last I saw of the sharpshooters. We remained in battery till sunset, to see whether the Yanks intended to advance on us in force. Their infantry camp was not far away, for I heard their drummers beating the long roll immediately after we opened fire on their sharpshooters. After dark this evening our cavalry kindled camp-fires all around the place we held to-day, to make the Yanks believe that we were many, and still holding the position. We fell back to Middletown and camped.
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Christmas Humour
Diary of John Haley, 17th Maine, December 24th:
"It is rumored that there are sundry boxes and mysterious parcels over at Stoneman's Station directed to us. We retire to sleep with feelings akin to those of children expecting Santa Claus. We have become very childish in some matters--grub being one of them."
On Christmas Day, Haley returned to his tent to endure a practical joke from his tentmate:
"On returning to camp, I was informed by my tentmate that there was no parcel at the station bearing my name. My mental thermometer not only plummeted to below zero, it got right down off the nail and lay on the floor. Seeing this, my tentmate made haste to dive under the bed and produce the box, which he had brought from the station during my absence, and in a few minutes we were discussing the merits of its contents. Most of the men have been remembered, and any that have not received something from home are allowed to share with their more fortunate neighbors."
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Henry Kyd Douglas, formerly of Stonewall Jackson's staff, was wounded in the Battle of Gettysburg and captured. Confined to Johnson's Island Prison, Ohio, as Christmas 1863 approached, Douglas received several boxes containing items to make his confinement more bearable:
"There came a carload of boxes for the prisoners about Christmas which after reasonable inspection, they were allowed to receive. My box contained more cause for merriment and speculation as to its contents than satisfaction. It had received rough treatment on its way, and a bottle of catsup had broken and its contents very generally distributed through the box. Mince pie and fruit cake saturated with tomato catsup was about as palatable as "embalmed beef" of the Cuban memory; but there were other things. Then, too, a friend had sent me in a package a bottle of old brandy. On Christmas morning I quietly called several comrades up to my bunk to taste the precious fluid of...DISAPPOINTMENT! The bottle had been opened outside, the brandy taken and replaced with water, adroitly recorded, and sent in. I hope the Yankee who played that practical joke lived to repent it and was shot before the war ended."
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Private Philip D. Stephenson, Co. K, of the 13th Arkansas, recalled his Christmas of 1863 in his memoirs: "It was a typical Christmas Day - snow and ice and keen cold. Spent by the camp at large in the cabins toasting their feet before blazing fires, smoking, and talking of home, and what they used to have for dinner on Christmas, and what they would like to have then, and wondering when the war would end.
Some of the officers of the various regiments were favored with an invitation from the Division and Brigade Headquarters to a Christmas Dinner. None of the men. That wouldn't do! After the rest were gone, we resolved to have a Christmas Day too!"
Stephenson explained how they "borrowed a little here and there and gathered together some rice, brown sugar, whiskey, spice, flour and corn meal," out of which they concocted a rice pudding and an oven cake of "batter bread." "The cooking of that dinner! Shall I ever forget it. Neither of us knew anything about cooking, nor had any "turn" for it. We did other needed things in the mess…The batter bread was reasonable enough to look at, but the Rice Pudding was a sight to see, ominous, threatening to play havoc with our insides. But that Rice Pudding did not know soldiers' stomachs. We ate that pudding, all of it. It was vile, but we ate it and laughed as we ate it until the tears ran from our eyes and our sides ached! We shook as we sat turn fashion, around it, and reeled in our seats, and shouted over it."
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Captain Charles Wills, of the 8th Illinois Volunteer Cavalry, writes home about how his camp celebrated the New Year of 1862: "Yesterday, New Year, the camp enjoyed a general frolic. A hundred or two cavalry boys dressed themselves to represent Thompson's men and went galloping around camp scattering the footmen and making noise enough to be heard in Columbus. The officers of the 11th Infantry were out making New Year calls in an army wagon with 30 horses to it, preceded by a splendid band. The 'boys" got a burlesque on the "ossifers." They hitched 20 mules to a wagon and filled it with a tin pan and stovepipe band, and then followed it in 60- mule wagon around camp and serenaded all the headquarters.
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December 24th
Clerling, Tennessee
My dear beloved companion, through many well directed changes of providence I once more have this glorious privilege of writing to you once more to let you know that I am still in the land of the living and blessed with good health. It has been a long time since I have heard a word from you. The last letter I received from you was dated September the 2 and one August the 21. I have those two letters yet I often read those 2 letters to remembrance of you. I still have your likeness reading your letters and looking at your likeness is all the comfort I have in the last five months. Oh, my dear, I want to hear from you the worst way. I sometimes think I never will get to hear from you again still I should live in hopes if I die in despair. The visit to Illinois done me a heap of good but not half as much as if I had got to seen you and my little babies. I want to see my mother of one more than anyone on earth except you. I want to see Papa, too.
I never shall forget their kindness that they have shown towards me whilst in their presence and whilst absent from them. I never can pay the debt I owe to them whilst here I am in the sunny South trying to help to put this cruel rebellion down there taking care of my little family. I should love them as father and mother and do thank God I have a respectful father and mother yet they have never written me a line since I have been in the Army but as they are old I can look over them. I reckon Papa and Mother thinks they have enough to do to take care of you, dear, and our little children. Well, I reckon that is the case. I do not hear much more news.
General Thurman [--could be Sherman--] is still moving on having great success without much fighting. The most fighting I hear is with the bush whackers. They seem to be doing all the fighting at this time. There was two men killed last night 2 miles from this city by the bush whackers. They was citizens that was killed.
My dear, I want you to give me all the news that you can when you get this letter I am afraid to hear from you all. Afraid that your father's house is burnt and you all destroyed. I want you and Papa to send me word whether it will be safe for me to come there when my time is out, but that will be some months yet. My time will be out the 6 day of August and that will be nearly 8 months and then I will soldier with you the rest of my days. That is what is the matter. I do not know when I can get to my regiment but I rather think it will be some time. Therefore, I shall not be able to draw any money until I can get to the regiment. My dear I am very sorry that I can't send you some money but I will have to do without myself. But, dear, let us do the best we can and wish for the better. As for my part I can do without any money but I want you to have it but what I can't make up to you now, I can after awhile.
I went out about 15 miles this week a foraging. I got 12 chickens and 2 hogs so I shall live pretty well as long as they last. The weather has been very disagreeable here this winter. So far a lot of rain and some snow. It is raining today. Now I must write a letter for my children.
My dear if you have sent me letters to the regiment I will not get them until I go to my command. And if you have sent me your likeness I will not get it either so you must tell me in your next letter if you have sent those. I would write to my captain to send my letters to me that you sent to the regiment if you have sent any but there is never communications to Thurman [--Sherman?--] at all. I sent you a letter yesterday. Today is Sunday and I have been waiting all day. I would have got letters from you before this time but Old [--unreadable--] was on the railroad between Chattanooga and Nashville but the 15 of this month he got routed with a heavy loss so none of my letters I guess will go to you now.
My dear I wish I could enjoy Christmas with you all but can't this year but if I and you should live to see next Christmas we will be together I trust. My dear I often think of the happy hours and days that we used to spend together and Oh to God that day may come again. I often think when we was once so happy and free but now I am banished from the presence of a kind and loving companion. It grieves me still I must be contented and live in hopes if I die in despair I want to see all of my friends and relatives. I want to see my sweet little babies but above all I want to see you my dear beloved Levica the best and goodness. I love you better than the things of this world. I would sacrifice everything in this war for your comfort and happiness and if it was your request I would sacrifice my life if it would make you happy.
A few words for my little babies and I will close. Tell little Jimmy to kiss his Ma for me and little Hattie for me and Grandpa and Grandmother. Tell little Jimmy to sleep at Ma's feet and hug them in his arms and keep them warm this cold winter and I will bring him a little pair of boots and a nice little knife and hat. Tell my sweet little girl Ma I will bring her a nice little cloak and a hood and some nice beads and a pair of little shoes. And now, Ma, I want you to kiss little James and Hattie in remembrance of me and I'll bring you several of the nicest presents that can be had. Among them will be a silk dress so dear I reckon I have written enough at this time. Give my love and respect to all inquiring friends if there should be any and my best love and respect to you dear. I have plenty of paper you need not send me any. I can get all I want.
Dear, I commenced this letter several days ago and this is Christmas Eve. I must tell you a little more and then I will close. The 20 of this month there was a man hung for murdering. He was a bush whacker. I saw him hang. It was a hard scene. I have seen men die. Every man but that was the hardest.
The boys is all at a party and I am alone. There was a very nice young lady call to my office this evening and invited me to a dance but politely thanked the lady for her kindness. I asked her if she did not think I was a married man and the reply she said perhaps your wife is dead. I told her I would not take her word for it. Dear I will finish the story in the next letter and I will write tomorrow for my Christmas feast.
William Craig
"I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year." ~Charles Dickens, Ebeneezer Scrooge, A Christmas Carol~
"Go Inside Magazine, Civil War Magazine" (Joyce Kohl)
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Defense of City Point Va. "Fort Merriam"
December 25th 1864 Christmas Day
My Dear Wife
Just four short years ago tonight you and I solemnly plighted our faith to each other, for so long as we both should live – you my darling are now far, far away from me in our Northern home, and (surrounded by your little innocent babes,) I can fancy you teaching the evening prayer, or lulling the young head to sleep, with that sweetest of all songs a mother’s lullaby – I was Officer of the Day yesterday, and of course was up most all night. As morning was near dawning I made my usual rounds, to watch the tired sentinels, and see that all was right – Returning back to my quarters, how swiftly memory brought back the last Christmas Holiday and contrasted it with this – It seemed as if I could almost hear the Christmas Chimes – Strange Chimes we have we have here – Cracking Rifles, and booming Cannon, sometimes on the Picket line, bright clashing Saber strokes, ends the monotony. I am coming home, God willing, and before long
I have been very sick again, owing to a severe cold settling on my throat and lungs – I could not talk or swallow except with great difficulty –
Even now the Doctor wants me to go to the Hospital, but I won’t go again if I can possibly do my duty properly here – My horse is partly to blame for my cold - I rode him down to the Hospital and the Point, coming back I stopped at the Sanitary Commission a moment, I tied "Black Ned" to a post, and I thought him all right -, but soon after I went in Mr. Ned slips off his bridle and takes French leave - When I came out to ride home, I had no horse, only a bridle - The night was pitch dark and the roads muddy _ I borrowed a Lantern and plodded home on foot, carrying the bridle - When I got home, no horse was there - So I laid down in my tent for an hour or so to wait and give him a chance to come home, but Mr. Ned kept away – So buckling on my saber, with my lantern in hand, away I went again down to the Hospital, and after hunting until Midnight I found the black rascal, snugly stowed away in a stable – He had been picked up by a guard, and put there – His feet had to travel coming home that night - . I had no bridle either –
Yesterday we had a fine drill, all by the Bugle calls – worked first rate
Please ask Grandmother if she got the letter I sent her with some Secesh money in it?
Don’t forget it Pet –
Love to all – Kiss the children for me
Affect.
Your own Husband,
Samuel J. Bradlee
Senior 1st Lt.
14th Mass. Lt. Battery
"Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time." ~Laura Ingalls Wilder~
"The Samuel J. Bradlee Letters"
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From the American Civil War Museum Blog: https://acwm.org/blog/december-2017-artifact-month-christmas-letter
By Robert Hancock
Director of Collections & Senior Curator
Three days before Christmas in 1863, Nathaniel J. Cundiff, a soldier in the 10th Battalion, Virginia Heavy Artillery, took up pen and paper to write to his mother in Bedford County.
Punctuation has been added, but the original spelling has been retained.
December 22, 1863
Dear Mother:
I take mi seat this morning to drop you a few lines to let you know that I am well and doing the best I can and I hope if theas lines should reach your hands they may find you and all the family well and doing well. Mother, I have drawed me a blanket [drawn ie: been issued] and am making very well. Times is very hard here, everything to eat is hie and scarce her[e]. We get very light rashens hardly a naugh to live on and I am afraid that times wil get wors in stid of beter as I don’t see any hops of Peace.
It is now nearly Cristmas and I expect to spend a lonesome Cristmas. I expect to be on the Darby town road on guard at Christmass. I would be very glad to be at home to spend mi cristmas at home with you. But there isn’t any chance for me to come a tall. Mother, the most of the company is well. James Howell and James Morris are both well at this time.
Mother, I don’t her of mutch fiting a going at present. Mother, you must write to me and give me all the news of the neighborhood. Write how all hour friends and relatives is geting on. Tell them all I would be glad to see them all.
Mother, they have got Steven Witt in castle thunder [a jail located in Richmond]. He was on gard in Richmond and on his post some things was missplaced and they arested all the men that wer on that post tho he is clear of doing any thing that was rong about hit so he will get out clear shortly clear and safe. Mother, write how brother Calvin is geting on. I haven’t any news to write to you at this time. I will haf ter come to a close. You must write to me often. I remain your son untill death.
From N.J. Cundiff to Mrs. Mary Cundiff
Nathaniel survived the war, was paroled at Appomattox, and lived to the age of 73. He died at the Soldiers’ Home in Richmond and is buried in Hollywood Cemetery.
Every year I try to find something that ties Christmas to our passion for the Civil War. This year, I thought I would endeavor to track down some letters from the soldiers to their loved ones to provide some perspective for all of us as we celebrate the season. Here are some that I found on-line. Please join me in posting Christmas letters you have seen in this thread:
The Following Letters Were Posted on the Civil War Talk Forum in December of 2005: https://civilwartalk.com/threads/christmas-letters.5619/
Camp near Fred'burg
Dec 25th, 1862
My dear Sister
This is Christmas Day. The sun shines feebly through a thin cloud, the air is mild and pleasant, [and] a gentle breeze is making music through the leaves of the lofty pines that stand near our bivouac. All is quiet and still, and that very stillness recalls some sad and painful thoughts.
This day, one year ago, how many thousand families, gay and joyous, celebrating Merry Christmas, drinking health to absent members of their family, and sending upon the wings of love and affection long, deep, and sincere wishes for their safe return to the loving ones at home, but today are clad in the deepest mourning in memory to some lost and loved member of their circle. If all the dead (those killed since the war began) could be heaped in one pile and all the wounded be gathered together in one group, the pale faces of the dead and the graons of the wounded would send such a thrill of horror through the hearts of the originators of this war that their very souls would rack with such pain that they would prefer being dead and in torment than to stand before God with such terrible crimes blackening their characters. Add to this the cries and wailings of the mourners - mothers and fathers weeping for their sons, sisters for their brothers, wives for their husbands, and daughters for their fathers - [and] how deep would be the convictions of their consciences.
Yet they do not seem to think of the affliction and distress they are scattering broadcast over the land. When will this war end? Will another Christmas roll around and find us all wintering in camp? Oh! That peace may soon be restored to our young but dearly beloved country and that we may all meet again in happiness.
But enough of these sad thoughts. We went on picket in town a few days ago. The pickets of both armies occupy the same positions now as they did before the battle. Our regt was quartered in the market place while the others occupied stores and private houses. I have often read of sacked and pillaged towns in ancient history, but never, till I saw Fredricksburg, did I fully realize what one was. The houses, especially those on the river, are riddled with shell and ball.
The stores have been broken open and deprived of every thing that was worth a shilling. Account books and nots and letters and papers both private and public were taken from their proper places and scattered over the streets and trampled under feet. Private property was ruined. Their soldiers would sleep in the mansions of the wealthy and use the articles and food in the house at their pleasure. Several houses were destroyed by fire. Such a wreck and ruin I never wish to see again.
Yet notwithstanding all this, the few citizens who are now in town seem to be cheerful and perfectly resigned. Such true patriots are seldom found. This will ever be a noted place in history.
While we were there, Brig Genl Patrick, U.S.A., with several of his aides-de-camp, came over under flag of truce. Papers were exchanged, and several of our men bought pipes, gloves, &c from the privates who rowed the boat across. They had plenty of liquor and laughed, drank, and conversed with our men as if they had been friends from boyhood.
There is nothing new going on. I am almost dead to hear from home. I have received no letters in nearly three weeks, and you can imagine how anxious I am. The mails are very irregular. I hope to get a letter soon. Dunlap Griffin is dead, died in Richmond of wounds received in the last battle. Capt Hance is doing very well. Frank Fleming is in bad condition. (He has been elected lieutenant since he left.)
Write to me quick right off. I wish to hear from you badly. Remember me to my friends and relatives, especially the Pickens and Ligons. Hoping to hear from you soon I remain
Your bud
Tally
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"Far, Far From Home" (Tally Simpson, 3rd South Carolina Volunteer)"
Christmas Eve 1862 found Union Brigadier General John Geary in Fairfax Station, Virginia, nearing the end of his convalescence from a wound he had received at Cedar Mountain in August. He took some time to offer holiday and fatherly advice to his daughter at home in Pennsylvania: My Dear Little Pet:
"On this Christmas Eve I have no doubt you have been enjoying yourself, perhaps with the toys of the season, eaten your nuts and cakes, hung up your stockings in the chimney corner for old Kris Kinkle, when he comes along with his tiny horses, "Dunder and Blixen" and his little wagon to fill in Lots and Gobs of sweet things, sugar, candy sugar plums, and if you please, sugar every thing. Well, When I was a little boy, a good many years ago, I was fond of such things myself. And when I look back, they were indeed the happiest days of my life. Enjoy them my little "Pet"--they come but once. The boys, I mean the two Willies, are getting too old for the enjoyment you can have. When ignorance is bliss `tis folly to be wise. I wish you a Merry Christmas and many of them. I must close. There is a lot of soldiers at my door giving me a serenade and I must give it some attention."
Your affectionate Papa
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Letter From Unknown Confederate Soldier- 1864
(printed from America's Memories)
Nashville Tenn Jany 5th 64
Friend Ettie
I believe I am not indebted to you by way of letter, but for your kindness to me I will write you a few lines. On New Year's day about one o-clock I received a verry nice gift which I appreciated verry much. It was the only gift that I received, and on that account realize its worth. You have my heartfelt thanks for your kindness and remembrance of a Soldier.
It is quite cool Weather here now and some snow upon the ground but not enough to make sleighing. I wish I wish I were in Hillsdale today I think I would call around to friend Ettie and go out a Sleighing. I get lonesome sometimes and I not know what to do, if I ever get out of the Service alive I am agoing to settle down and get married.
What a novel Idea that is, perhaps you will not believe it but I am not joking. I am not quite an old Bach yet but I fear I will be before long. If you know of some good looking amiable young Lady that wish to change her situation in life, just mention the fact to her, and tell her there is a Soldier in the Army that wishes to marry in less than two years after his time expires in the Army.
Enclosed you will find the likeness of your unknown Correspondent which you will please accept, with the kindest regards.
I am yours
verry truly
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"Christmas, December 25, 1863
Bright Merry Christmas is here again, and so am I, right in the breezy woods to enjoy it, unhampered by the restraints of custom, the fetters of fashion, and thraldom of etiquette, ready and willing to hide away a first-class Christmas dinner if I had it. I am glad I am alive and whole, for during this year many a poor soldier whose sun of life glowed in the very zenith of manhood and glory was cut down and immolated on the altar of his country, like the full blown rose that sacrifices and casts its beauteous and fragrant petals on the altar of the passing storm. At sunrise this morning we fired two rounds from our guns in commemoration of the birth of Him who said, "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you, not as the world giveth."
The menu of our Christmas dinner was composed wholly of beef with gravy and corn bread. Our mess was afraid to try anything new, as it might throw us headlong on the sick list in the busy season of house building. I was hard at work all day, getting raw material for the business end of our culinary department."
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Camp near Dinwiddie Court House
December 26, 1864
Dear Martha,
Your letter came to hand a few days since and I am now seated to answer. I have but little news times is very dull out here yesterday was the most quiet day we have had for some time. The soldiers all look sad and lonely. We have nothing spiritual or refreshing in camp. Have not see one case of intoxification during our Christmas holiday. All is calm on the lines in front of Petersburg and Richmond, except some little picket firing on Saturday night. I have a splendid cain and am living quite comfortable at present. Rations are rather scanty.
I have not heard from your Pa since he went to hospital at Staunton. I saw him on the cars, he had measles, but was getting on fine, he told me he would write to me as soon as I wrote to him. I have wrote but have not had time to get an answer.
Mat - I hope you are having a good time today taking Christmas. I am passing it off writing my friends. We had drill this morning. What has become of Fannie? I have not heard from her in some time. You must offer my highest regards to all the girls. I hope I will get off home before the winter breaks. I want to come home very bad this Christmas. Tell "Tee" if I get to come home he and I will start up some Christmas--if it is only to go out and hunt rabbits and know there is a heap of squirrels and other wild game up there. Robert you must be a smart boy while your Papa is gone.
How is my little namesake getting on? Is he most as large as you "Tee"? Polly, your brother Calvin is in my company well and harty, except he sometimes complaining with reumatism in his legs. He seams to be pretty well satisfied for a soldier. I hope you are well. I must close as I have nothing worth notice on hand. My love and best wishes to all the children. Remember me kindly to all who make an inquery if there be any. May heavens best blessings be always with you all.
Yours affectionatly,
Jasper
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The following was written in December, 1863 by "Manton", a pseudonym for a correspondent to the Danbury Times during the Civil War. "Manton" wrote a letter for virtually every edition of the paper while the Seventeenth was in the field. "High Private Manton", "H.P. Manton" and "Manton" were all pen names of James Montgomery Bailey, a member of Company C.
"Manton's" description of Christmas 1863 at Folly Island, South Carolina.
Life in the Seventeenth
No. 23
Our Christmas
Holidays will come, you know, and if they do come, why they have got to be attended to. So much fussing and landangling, so much beer and whiskey to be drunk, so much yelling and singing to be gone through whether or no. A friend confidently told me that Christmas came but once a year and I determined to profit by the hint.
By order of Gen. Gilmore and the Orderly I was put on guard yesterday, cautioned to look after the interest of the Country at large, and keep sober. Determined that the Country should not suffer through my negligence, and indignantly refuted all idea of getting drunk. Night came, and Christmas Eve in all its primitive and gorgeous and oriental and magnificent and munificent and beautiful and glorious and splendiferous and South Carolina robes was upon us.
When darkness had settled down on the tapering and graceful sand ridge of Folly Island, the inhabitants thereof concluded that the set time had come, and everybody that was able to go in went in forthwith. N.B.---Now for a bit of sentiment. The heavens were devoid of clouds and comets. Perfectly transparent was the azure dome, and sparkling in myriads of Republican stars. Proudly through this brilliant host sailed the queenly queen of night, showering a million rays of soft lustrous glory, over the verdant foliage and white palaces of the private martyrs of the gallant Seventeenth.
How's that, eh? That "private martyrs" ain't bad, considering. And now leaving the prostrated reader to admire the aforementioned high-falutin, I will give you Mr. Times, a brief description of our unequalled camp. Co.'s E, G, B, and K, of the right wing have their streets hedged tastefully with young spruces and pines, slightly interspersed with a long leafed shrub, beautiful to look at, but very aggravating on a too close acquaintance, each leaf being pointed to the intensity of a needle, and safely calculated to pierce sheet iron.
Although not knowing the name of the plant, yet I flatter myself that I am thoroughly acquainted with the points of things by regularly falling over it three times a day. The entrances to their respective streets are overhung with beautiful arches of evergreens, enclosing well-made wreaths, and pretty festoons of the same material. Co.'s C, F, A, and H are similarly decorated. Co.'s G and K, occupy the central street, in the centre of which, a few feet back from the line is a double arch of lofty size, with the word CONSTITUTION, prettily worked in it.
On the line, and on each side of the street, is a juvenile arch with a wreath in the centre, holding the letter of the Company. The devices are quite unique, and taken together form quite an imposing and picturesque front. Co.'s B, and G, are of the Gothic turn. Co. F---Norwalk---have three fine looking arches, one large and two lesser ones, with correspondingly sized wreaths. The centre contains their letter, and the two others stars. Co. F have also erected a palmetto dining room, and through the indefatigable efforts of their Captain---Allen--- have the satisfaction of taking the lead of the other Companies in this modern convenience.
Today they had a fine dinner served up in the new building, to which I was most kindly invited by Sergeant Oscar St. John, who will please accept my thanks for the seasonable remembrance. A table bountifully loaded with a pleasant variety of substantials extended the length of the room. A half "shelter" with the following inscribed in green leaves was stretched against the wall above the head of the table:
"A MERRY CHRISTMAS"
Co. F
Below it was their Company flag, festooned quite handsomely, and flanked by tasty wreaths of cedars, containing stars of holly. On the opposite wall were similar wreaths surmounted by a cross. I shall not soon forget the pleasing effects of that dinner taken with the bonnie boys of Co. F, not least among whom is little Johnny Bulger with his laughing face. May our next Christmas be eaten within Connecticut lines.
The Hospital and Doctor's headquarters have been handsomely arched, wreathed, festooned and otherwise decorated under the superintendence of Charley Rhan, ho has shown in the effect that he is by no means adept in floral architecture. I am sorry to say that Dr. Gregory is unwell, but we trust soon to see him among us again. His place is temporarily filled by Doctor Shaw of the 41st N.Y., who, I hear, is giving satisfaction with his mixtures. Sammy Barnum is now Hospital Steward.
And now we come to something nice in the quarters of our jolly Drum corps. Imagine four tents on a slight eminence, topped with cedar boughs, and connected together by an evergreen cable, a railing in front also evergreened, surrounded by young pines and holly, and with a pretty arched stairway leading up to the whole, which is tastefully interspersed with handsome wreaths, and loyal stars. Also from out first arch hangs a suspended banner, bearing the following worked in leaves:
17th C.V.
DRUM CORPS,
Union
The drummers tents are as tidy and cozy inside, as they are beautiful without, and the boys being a reserved set of cusses, my grave disposition leads me quite frequently among them.
Long live those musical beings, the only objection I have to whom is the sad repetition of their "calls." But time, my twenty months, will obliterate all such impressions.
Henry Huss, one of them, has drawn a faithful picture of what I have been kindly describing to you. Possibly it may be further illustrated, when you will do well to secure a copy. But I must close now. Every thing is considered lovely by the knowing ones in Camp, and hereabouts. The sutlers from one end of the Island to the other were painfully drunk last night. I was on post from 12 to 2 o'clock dead of night---countersign was all correct, so was I. Several tents were burning lights, whose occupants were not all correct.
Walking my beat in pensive mood, I thought of crowds gathered in certain places in Beaner, and of certain young men who have not yet escaped minority, wandering on Main Street with heavy coat-tail pockets, a Germanic way of conversation, and a tendency to yell at everything, and hug lamp posts.
Suddenly I heard something and casting a heavy glance into the dim darkness, I saw a party approach; looked at them again, and concluded they must be a remnant of Franklyn's Arctic Expedition. Halted them, and after the usual preliminaries got the countersign. While passing by, the most inebriate of the lot, if there could be any distinction, affectionately asked if I were drunk. Angered by the unjust hint, I turned the entire party over to the mercy of the Guards, and fifteen minutes after an amicable settlement was made, and we all -----, but I must not let out the secrets of the guards. It isn't military. It is Christmas night, Tom Hern is talking of canteens, and I must close while I ----
Christmasly Yours,
"MANTON"
"The Seventeenth Connecticut Volunteer Infantry"
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CHARLESTON MERCURY, December 30, 1861, p. 1, c. 3
Richmond, December 25.
Christmas, the fire-cracker Sunday of the year, dawns as brightly as heart could wish. There is anything else than "peace on earth and good will to men," yet the present situation and the prospect before us afford ample cause for gratitude. We are not perhaps so well off as we might have been, but are intact as a nation, and after many months of war with a people much superior to ourselves in numbers and resources, have proved our ability to maintain our independence. Of course, there were egg-nog parties all over the town last night. "It was the custom of my ancestors," said a friend, at whose foaming bowl your correspondent presented himself, "and I intend to keep it up, whether I am able or not, war or no war." Military Christmas gifts are all the go among children, judging from the number of little boys in the street this morning with drums swung from their necks. . . . Hermes.
SAVANNAH [GA] REPUBLICAN, December 25, 1863, p. 2, c.1
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"A Merry Christmas?"
Ah! no. We cannot find it in our heart to utter such a wish in these solemn times. The day for merriment wish to [illegible] a people has passed. We are dealing with the fearful realities of blood. We are in the midst of a revolution and the angel of death and desolation stalks abroad through the land. Brother is in arms against brother, a deadly and terrific strife, on the part of one for liberty and his own fireside—on the part of the other for vengeance, subjugation and a remorseless tyranny. Nearly every household in the land is clad in mourning for dear ones departed; want and distress extend their bony arms and embrace thousands upon thousands of a once happy and contented people; avarice wields its might sceptre among us and bring low the widow and the orphan, the naked shoulders of our brave troops are bared to the rude blasts of winter, and their shoeless feet crimson the frozen earth on the battle-field and the march.
Verily, this is no time for rejoicing, for present making, for the revelry usually [illegible line in fold of paper] the sun of 1863 goes down in blood, and the stoutest heart must grow sad when it sees his sickly lingering rays cast athwart a land [illegible] by the tread of hostile armies and resounding with the lamentations of the [illegible]. We hope nobody will have or desire a merry Christmas.
The close of another year is an occasion for reflection, for good deeds to the public, for repentance of our manifold shortcomings, for resolutions of amendment, less selfishness and more patriotism for the future—and for solemn invocation of the Most High to watch, [illegible], reform, protect, and guide us in all our struggles to come.
Thus improved, the Christmas of 1863 will rise upon a precious incense to Heaven, and call down its mercies and blessings upon this suffering land of the South. In the stead of jollification and mirth, we wish for all our readers that quiet but happy contentment of having discharged their whole duty at a time when God and our country required no [illegible] at their [illegible].
"Civil War Newspapers"
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PEORIA (IL) MORNING MAIL, December 28, 1862, p. r, c. 2-3
Letter from "B. Sharp."
High Mass at St. Mary's.
Editor Mail:--I have hitherto done little but find fault with the musical arrangements of the churches of this city, and really feel a little ashamed of myself; but I cannot help it, for, first, I think the fault-finding is "called for," and second, it is my privilege, as a "confirmed old maid," to find fault, and I shall exercise my prerogative as I think it is deserved. I am one of those unfortunately constituted individuals known as "nervous," and, to save my life, it is impossible for me to quietly listen to a constant succession of "unresolved discords," or the promiscuous "coming in" of the various voices of a choir—out of tune and out of time,--as it would be for me to be easy when tormented with a raging toothache. Patience is a cardinal virtue, but in the above cases the supply is not equal to the demand.
For a number of years I have been in the habit, on Christmas morning, to attend the early service of the Catholic church. On this, the greatest festival of the year, no pains or expense is spared to render the service as imposing as possible, and as music enters very largely into the Catholic order of worship, it is on this occasion, generally, of the highest order. In the metropolitan churches the choirs are strengthened by the addition of at least a quartette of professional vocalists, and also full orchestra is called into requisition. Then and there can the lover of music enjoy a rich repast in listening to the artistic rendering of the sublime works of Haydn, Mozart, and some of the more modern masters.
But in this city I did not expect all this, and therefore, when in company with some friends, we left our comfortable firesides, and encountered the storm and midnight darkness of Christmas, in our visit to the midnight service at St. Mary's church, it was not with the expectation of listening to the artistic, finished performance of the cathedral choir, but I did expect something—perhaps simple and easy of execution, but still tolerable.
The choir commenced the service with the good old hymn, Adeste Fidelis, during the performance of which, I found that a large proportion of the singers were Soprano—and some very good voices, too,--the Alto very fair in one or two instances, the Tenor and Bass I did not sufficiently distinguish to note peculiarities. The organ—a sweet-toned little instrument—was very clumsily handled, or else the accompaniment to the Adeste has been most unharmoniously altered. Then followed the commencement of the Mass,--the Kyrie Eleison.
The music was not familiar to me, but struck me as being very peculiar in its composition, or else _____. Then followed the joyful "song of the angels"—the Gloria in Excelsis—the opening strain of which was unmistakably familiar—it cannot be mistaken when once heard.
I listened attentively for what followed. Surely, that strain was the commencement of the Gloria of Haydn's Third Mass—the Imperial—but where was the balance? It must be that some scribbler has surreptitiously appropriated that much to his own base use, or else the choir of St. Mary's have, in this instance, done what so many aspiring church choirs have before this accomplished in the same way—undertook more than they could succeed in doing well and made a signal failure.
During the entire service that little organ was not quiet for a moment, but persisted in "showing off" its capabilities of murdering harmony, and of putting in defiance all known and acknowledged musical laws. I verily expected it would attempt to accompany the sermon, but to my great joy it ceased its idle clamor at the moment the reverend father ascended the pulpit, but only to collect strength to commence with renewed vigor the moment the sermon was ended. I think the organist of St. Mary's is determined to earn his salary, and to that end has concluded to make up in quantity of his performance what he lacks in quality.
Myself and friends did not stay to hear the conclusion of the musical (?) portion of the service, but elbowed our way through the throng of worshippers, there assembled, and sought our homes.
Now, Mr. Editor, I wish to know why it is that second rate choirs will, on all occasions like the present, almost invariably attempt more than they have the ability to accomplish? Why can they not be satisfied with less difficult music? There is plenty of easy music of a very pleasing style for the use of Catholic choirs—Masses by Peters, Webbe, LaHache, and very many others—the tasty performance of which will give good satisfaction to all, both performers and listeners, and the choir of St. Mary's would do well to practice such and such only.
If you have no Tenor—and Tenors are hard to find—get the three part Masses of LaHache, for Soprano, Alto, and Bass, which are very pretty and not difficult of execution, and if your organist is capable of performing well his part, you will in good time, by much practice, furnish a style of music gratifying to your honored pastor, to the congregation, and to yourselves, but until then the music will be, as it was on Christmas morning, a FAILURE.
Yours,
"Civil War Newspapers"
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SUMMARY: Letter written to P.H. Powers' wife wishing her a merry Christmas and informing her that the Confederates had whipped Burnside at Fredericksburg and are now hoping for a peaceful separation with the Union.
Dec 25th 1862 Mrs P.H. Powers Care of Dr A.L. Baldwin Winchester, Virginia
Wife Camp Near Fredricksburg
Dec 25th 1862
My Dearest Wife
I hardly have the heart to wish you a Merry Christmas this beautiful Christmas Morning because I will know merriment is not for you this day but I can and do wish you a happy day and the same to our little dears, who I suppose must be content with very meager gifts and very few sweet things. I thought of them when I first awoke this morning about day. And wondered what you managed to put in their stockings. Memory went back to the many happy Christmas days we have shared together with them. Alas will the good old times ever return again? And you and I with our little ones dwell together in peace? I hope so. I believe so, but the heart sickens with the deferred hope.
So I have been Jim's chief cook for a week since his servant left. Not much time was given me this morning for such sad affections, with the responsibilty of a Christmas breakfast on my mind. So I stirred myself from a warm bed (end of sentence deleted). A Major Quartermaster to a Captain (word missing) but necessity is a hard master. And you know I can do anything. I am a better cook than Steven. I wish you could have been present to witness my sweets and partake of my viandes, Barbecue Rabbit, Beef Hash with Potatoes, hot bread and coffee. If the darkies all learn as I shall be able to (illegible word) some assistance. We are very comfortable in camp. have good tents, and wood is in abundance to keep off the frost. I have been axcidingly busy for the last week assisting Jim in paying off the troops and really he needed it. He worries at every thing. Allows every (illegible word) to suffer his equanimity and makes himself (illegible phrase). I wish from my heart he could get out of the Department he is in. Though I see no hope for him.
He had a letter from Robert yesterday. All well. And nothing new. I have written you several times since I have been here but as yet have not heard from you. Continue to write some of your letters will (end of sentence cropped off.) I wrote you some account of the great fight. But you wil see from the papers how terribly whipped Burnside was, and what a commotion it has produced in Yankeedom. I think the sky brightens and our chances for peace improve. But still the war may bring on another year, or event to the end of Lincoln's term. It is as warm this morning as June. And every thing bright. If I only was with you for the day at leat I would have a happy Christmas. We are invited to dine with Tom Bullard. And I am (illegible word). I must now stop. With love to all.
Very Affectionatel Yours
P.H. Powers
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George P Kersh Camp Tip Top, Pocohontas County, VA
December 25, 1861
Dear Brother
I take this opportunity to write a few lines home I received your letter dated on December 15th on the 19th and was glad to hear from you all I wrote a letter home on the 9th of December and on the 16th I suppose you did not get all the letters I wrote home Some must have been mislaid I have been writing nearly every week on an average We have been trimming and burning brush ever since the fight we had no fortifications for the canon the day of the fight we have five now we have been blockading some roads also and extended our trenches around further we will have a better chance at the yanks if they come now the brush being burnt from around our fortifications they had a better chance then we had the day of the battle they could lay behind the brush and logs concealed and when we would raise up to look for them they would fire at us they knew exactly where to look for us in the trenches we had a false alarm here last Monday we were ordered in our trenches about five o'clock in the morning all the regiments were ordered in the trenches we waited for the Yankees till about an hour by sun and no yanks come so we went home to our breakfast disappointed the way the alarm got out was that some of our men slipped the pickets that night to hunt some liquor and When they returned the pickets heard them and took them to be yanks and fired a couple rounds on them and run in no one was hurt Wm Cupps is doing pretty well now since he has been put on duty he had done no duty since he belonged to the army worth naming until a few weeks ago the Doctor would not have him on the sick list no longer so he had to go on duty Wm H Fry is well and bustling around Jacob Harvey Craun is nearly well again he is taken off the sick list and goes on duty again Adam Craun is not well & has not been for some time having a kind of diarrhea and jaundice Adison L. Hisner is has not been well for some time one of our boys named Philip Caffrey went home today with the fever the balance of our Company are well that we have here now we have none at the hospital here now Harvey Misner has gone home sick Wm Jammason had been sick getting well again The health of our regiment is improving now not as many sick as had been we have a dry Christmas here the boys had to go to work today as well as any other day we work here on Sundays too as to myself I am excused from duty to day having a bile on my leg which hurts me some otherwise I am in good health as to getting a furlough it would be impossible now as we ain't through with the work yet and look for the yanks every day towards spring probably we may get them, it is just left to the officers choice if you and (B?) should come out you may bring a flannel and cotton shirt along if you can get flannel yet if not it dont make no difference I believe that is all I want now I will answer Josey letter next
Yours respectfully
AW Kersh
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Diary of Nimrod Porter, December 24, 1864.
"Nothing is safe, no help is anywhere" the emolument of war in Maury County, an excerpt from the diary of Nimrod Porter
Gen. Croxton's headquarters is in our house, with his whole brigade camped all over out yard, lots, lane and everywhere they can get near enough a fence to keep them in wood. With reluctance the Gen. Ordered the provost guard to station out their guards all around the house, but it only gave the guards a better opportunity for marauding than the common soldiers, and they made the best of it. They took all the apples out of the cellar. They broke the weatherboarding off the house for fires, burnt the yard fences, went in our smoke house and took the meat. They cooked the last old gobbler and all the chickens over a fire in the yard. They even took the boots off the blacks [i.e., slaves]. Considerable fuss over that. They should not rob the blacks. Last night they took all black Sukey's money, all my corn and what little oats I have left.
There is great tribulation in the country, stealing horses, mules, hogs, breaking in houses. The soldiers are very insulting and impose on everybody, stealing and encouraging the blacks to steal and do every manner of rascality. Nothing is safe, no help is anywhere for our unfortunate condition. All, all that we have is nearly gone. How will we live? What will we eat? I wish there was a river of fire a mile wide between the North and the South that would burn with unquenchable fury forever more and that it could never be passed to the endless ages of eternity by any living creature.
Is there no hope for this dying land?
Tomorrow is Christmas day, a bitter one for us, black or white. A grey fox ran under the kitchen walk. I shot it for dinner. We have a little parched corn.
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Christmas in one Confederate household
Christmas in one Confederate household in Warren County
Civil War Journal of Lucy Virginia French.
Christmas Dec. 1864
Tonight I have but one thought—the cause of the South has gone down. The news all around us is evident of the fact. For my part I freely acknowledge that I can see no brightness now for the Confederacy. Hood has been beaten at Nashville and is now endeavoring to get out of the state, and Sherman's rapid [march] through Ga. has been successful. He being now at Savannah if he has not possession of the city. . .
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Yesterday Martha and myself worked the love long day making cakes, molasses candy, egg nogg etc. for the children must have something. I felt it a drag, all the time,—I did it from necessity. The children saw their odd cake elephants, horses, birds, old women etc. while in the process of cooking, and therefore they would not do for the nice white stockings that were put up to tempt good Santa Claus. I never was so put to it to get up something for the stockings, but I had a set of tiny coffee cups and saucers and some other little affairs which they had never seen, or forgotten—these I filled up the little girls with, and put in the boys, paper, pen, pencils, and some greenback [dollars].
They all seemed highly pleased, and enjoyed their good old pensioner used to bestow upon them. Oh! God give us peace, peace on any terms! It may be weak, but if so, Heaven forgive us! We have borne the strain so long. I took down my prayer-book and read the service of Christmas Church, with our good Bishop or Dr. Page officiating—-to recall the wreaths and emblems, to fill my soul once more with the melodious flood of the organ—the grand Te Deum— the exulting Gloria—ah! how vain! how vain! I could have wept but my tears are few nowadays, and their springs lie deep, deep. I had the same feeling today that I had when poor Capt. Spurlock was brought home dead from the slopes of Stone River. It is a strange feeling—with a depth of sadness "too deep for easing tears."
Oh! Will this strife ever be ended, or will I never be able to get out of it? Mollie came yesterday to spend her Christmas with us—I was very glad she came. Tho it is not at all like the old days—yet I wanted to have her with us. She has seen some merry Christmas days in the Forest [family] Home—will she ever see another as gay?
No! I cannot hope it. We did not hear the news of Hood's retreat until this evening—when Malone came over and told it. He has slept here every night since his fright by those bushwhackers. I do not think him in any danger from them now, but his wife is ill, and insists upon his not remaining at home at night, and I have told him he ought by all means do as she wishes..
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A Skirmish on xmas Day 1864
DECEMBER 25, 1864.-Skirmish near White's Station, Tenn.
Report of Col. John W. Noble, third Iowa Cavalry.
COL. NOBLE'S HDQRS., December 25, 1864.
My patrol of thirty men went out about White's Station this morning. There, to the number of about 100, the advance guard drove in the picket, and were captured.
A party of our flankers were also taken in. After skirmishing some time with the rebel force, the officer and the balance of the patrol came to camp. Loss, 17 men, 1 wounded, and horses, &c. Rebel loss unknown, if any. Have 150 men out to redeem the officer, if possible. I don't think [he is] to blame. The result is that of being outnumbered and outwitted, without being surprised.
The rebels were seen, but not supposed to number as many as they proved.
NOBLE, Colonel.
OR, Ser. I, Vol. 45, pt. I, p. 875.
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Excerpt from the Journal of the 4th Army Corps:
TWO MILES AND A HALF SOUTH OF LYNNVILLE, TENN. (COLUMBIA AND PULASKI TURNPIKE. )
December 25.-7 a. m., directed division commanders to march as soon as thecavalry moves and we can get the road, Gen. Beatty to one day's rations now in the haversacks of the men. We have but one day's rations now in the haversacks of the men. Our supply train breaking. This fact was reported to Gen. Thomas last night, and he was requested to allow our supply train to cross the river and come forward as soon as possible. 8 a. m., received a note from Gen. Thomas, saying that he will hurry up our train as fast as he can. 9.10 a. m., the cavalry is now out of the way, and the head of our column starts for Pulaski. 1 p. m., head of column arrives at Pulaski, having marched eleven miles since 9.10 a. m. Gen. Wilson drove the enemy's rear guard through Pulaski very rapidly, and his advance arrived at Richland Creek (in the outskirts of the town) just in time to save the bridge over the same on the Lamb's Ferry and Florence road.
The enemy had set it on fire and it was burning, and the enemy just leaving it, when his advanced regiment reached it. It was important that this bridge should be saved, as the creek is not fordable, and we would have been delayed a long time to bridge it. Citizens of Pulaski report that the enemy's pontoon train passed through Pulaski on Friday last, and that Gen. Hood intends to cross the Tennessee River at Lamb's Ferry or Florence. The Lamb's Ferry and Florence roads are the same for eighteen miles out from Pulaski, then they separate. It will not be possible to tell which road the enemy has taken until we reach the point where the roads separate. 1.15 p. m., Gen. Wilson has crossed Richland Creek and is pushing on after the enemy before him.
Our head of column is just beginning to cross the creek, and we will follow closely in support of the cavalry. We leave the turnpike at Richland Creek. The road from here is almost impassable for wagons and artillery. We will take with one battery for each division and one reserve battery, three rifle batteries we will double teams. We will also double teams for all wagons we take. Our rations are out to-night, and when we go into camp we will halt until we can get up three day's supplies. The road on the south side of Richland Creek is covered with broken down wagons, abandoned artillery, ammunition, &c., left by the enemy. He could not take them with him. Citizens say the mules were taken from these wagons to put to the enemy's pontoon train. 3.30 p. m. (two miles from Pulaski), received a dispatch from Gen. Wilson, stating that the enemy has given him a check; that he is strongly posted, with his front covered with rail barricades; that Forrest's cavalry and eight brigades of infantry are in his front, and he wishes the assistance of our infantry. We push forward as rapidly as possible as possible to Gen. Wilson's assistance. 5.30 p. m., our head of column reaches the point where Gen. Wilson was checked by the enemy, but he (the enemy) has fled, and Gen. Wilson is now pushing on.
Gen. Wilson was pushing the enemy too fast, when he (the enemy) made a counter charge and captured one gun, which now remains in his possession. We are now six miles from Pulaski, and halt for the night. Gen. Wilson is informed that we can go no further until we can get rations. 7 p. m., a train with three day's rations for us is now at Pulaski, and officers are sent forward to hurry it up as fast as possible. It cannot be up with the troops before 11 a. m. to-morrow, so bad is the condition of the roads. 10.15 p. m., received of a note from Gen. Thomas, directing us to issue three days' rations, and then push forward in support of the cavalry; that the cavalry train. (This refers to a train of three day's rations that will be in Pulaski to-morrow morning for us, and our baggage train.) It has been raining since 1 p. m. to-day, and this will make the roads even worse.
OR, Ser. I, Vol. 45, pt. I, pp. 163-164.
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Excerpt from the Report of Major-General Nathan Bedford Forrest on operations
On the morning of the 25th, after destroying all the ammunition which could not be removed from Pulaski by Gen. Hood and two trains of cars, I ordered Gen. Jackson to remain in town as long as possible and to destroy the bridge at Richland Creek after everything had passed over.
The enemy soon pressed Gen. Jackson, but he held him in check for some time, killing and wounding several before retiring. Seven miles from Pulaski I took position on King's Hill, and awaiting the advance of the enemy, repulsed him, with a loss of 150 killed and wounded, besides capturing many prisoners and one piece of artillery. The enemy made no further demonstrations during the day. I halted my command at Sugar Creek, where it encamped during the night.
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Christmas 1864, a letter from Indiana
Dec 25th. '64 to Capt. Dunn Co. E 57th Indiana
Dear Sir, I have heard that my son, David Ward, (a drafted man in your company) was killed while doing picket duty in front of Nashville on the night of the 14th instant and I wish to know where he was buried and if there was a headboard placed at his grave or any other means whereby it can be recognized so that I can obtain the body by going to Nashville. Please answer at your earliest convenience and oblige a bereaved father.
John Ward
Terre Haute, Vigo Co., Ind.
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Nashville Dispatch, December 25, 1862.
December 25, 1862 - Season's Greetings
A Merry Christmas!--In times of peace and prosperity the whole Christian world is accustomed to rejoice and be merry on this, the birthday of The Prince of Peace. Those who have an abundance of this world's goods have been accustomed
from time immemorial to give freely to those of their neighbors who have been less fortunate; while those who have had but little have given even a portion of what they had, so that all could rejoice and be glad, and sing their
Christmas carols with light hearts.
Our rejoicings to-day will necessarily be mingled with sorrows; grief for relatives and friends lost to us in this world, will mar the exuberant joy which should fill our hearts under other circumstances; and sorrow and anxiety for the absent ones will necessarily detract from the general enjoyment; yet should we rejoice; do you ask why? —look around you, and see how many thousands are suffering all the afflictions you endure, and, in addition, all the pangs of hunger and cold, the burning fever, the cold chill, the racking pain, and the various heartburnings and anxieties of the widowed mother in poverty. Of your means, therefore, give freely to the poor to-day, and you will have just cause to rejoice that AlmightyGod has thus blessed you and enabled you to make glad the hearts of some one or more of His suffering creatures on this the annual festival of the birth of our Redeemer. That all our readers may have cause to rejoice, we fervently pray.
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December 25th, 1864
My Dear Wife...
Again I write you a short letter which leaves myself, James D. Pounds, A. Mattox, M. F. Giddins & Wm.Anderson in good health & hope you & familley are enJoying the Same blessing I have nothing new to write you.
I am very anxious to hear of and [an] Exchange but have very little hopes of being Exchanged during the War. we are permitted to receve the papers now & have a chance of Knowing what is going on. The late arrangement entering [entered] into by the C.S. & U.S. will not lead to & Exchange. Brig Gen Beall on the part of the C.S. is now in N.Y. on Parole to carry out the arrangements on the part of the C.S. to furnish we prisoners of War with all the nessary supplies to make us comfertable. & we have Elected Col Josie of Ark & Col Healkine of Tenn & Capt Smith of Va to make a report of what we need to Gen Beall in N.Y. & Issue the Same when it arrives here. So you may not give your self any uneaseyness about us we are fairing very well now & will do better when our supplies is encreast.
I havent heard from Anderson yet & do not expect to Soon. let me Know when you write if J.M. Griffin have been heard of at home. I am still corresponding with my friend in Nashville "Tenn & will not suffer for any thing. your Uncle John Roberts is in Prison at Rock Island Ills & Bryant his son is with me & in good health Give my love to all at home & Kiss Reubin for me. I will close hoping to hear from you soon as my last was dated Oct 8th.
I Remain your Affectsionate Husband
John Wm. Hagan
P.S. this is a dull crismass day
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A Gunner in Chew's Battery, Stuart's Horse Artillery, Army of Northern Virginia:
December 25, 1862
This is Merry Christmas. This morning we resumed our march early and moved down the Valley nearly to Kernstown, where we encountered the Yankees and gave them a Christmas greeting in the shape of a few shell. We took the same position we held at the battle of Kernstown last spring. About sixty sharpshooters advanced on our position and attempted to drive us away. We opened fire on them with two guns and fired three rounds, which thoroughly settled the sharpshooting business for this Christmas. Their line fell back in a rather stirred-up mixture, and that was the last I saw of the sharpshooters. We remained in battery till sunset, to see whether the Yanks intended to advance on us in force. Their infantry camp was not far away, for I heard their drummers beating the long roll immediately after we opened fire on their sharpshooters. After dark this evening our cavalry kindled camp-fires all around the place we held to-day, to make the Yanks believe that we were many, and still holding the position. We fell back to Middletown and camped.
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Christmas Humour
Diary of John Haley, 17th Maine, December 24th:
"It is rumored that there are sundry boxes and mysterious parcels over at Stoneman's Station directed to us. We retire to sleep with feelings akin to those of children expecting Santa Claus. We have become very childish in some matters--grub being one of them."
On Christmas Day, Haley returned to his tent to endure a practical joke from his tentmate:
"On returning to camp, I was informed by my tentmate that there was no parcel at the station bearing my name. My mental thermometer not only plummeted to below zero, it got right down off the nail and lay on the floor. Seeing this, my tentmate made haste to dive under the bed and produce the box, which he had brought from the station during my absence, and in a few minutes we were discussing the merits of its contents. Most of the men have been remembered, and any that have not received something from home are allowed to share with their more fortunate neighbors."
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Henry Kyd Douglas, formerly of Stonewall Jackson's staff, was wounded in the Battle of Gettysburg and captured. Confined to Johnson's Island Prison, Ohio, as Christmas 1863 approached, Douglas received several boxes containing items to make his confinement more bearable:
"There came a carload of boxes for the prisoners about Christmas which after reasonable inspection, they were allowed to receive. My box contained more cause for merriment and speculation as to its contents than satisfaction. It had received rough treatment on its way, and a bottle of catsup had broken and its contents very generally distributed through the box. Mince pie and fruit cake saturated with tomato catsup was about as palatable as "embalmed beef" of the Cuban memory; but there were other things. Then, too, a friend had sent me in a package a bottle of old brandy. On Christmas morning I quietly called several comrades up to my bunk to taste the precious fluid of...DISAPPOINTMENT! The bottle had been opened outside, the brandy taken and replaced with water, adroitly recorded, and sent in. I hope the Yankee who played that practical joke lived to repent it and was shot before the war ended."
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Private Philip D. Stephenson, Co. K, of the 13th Arkansas, recalled his Christmas of 1863 in his memoirs: "It was a typical Christmas Day - snow and ice and keen cold. Spent by the camp at large in the cabins toasting their feet before blazing fires, smoking, and talking of home, and what they used to have for dinner on Christmas, and what they would like to have then, and wondering when the war would end.
Some of the officers of the various regiments were favored with an invitation from the Division and Brigade Headquarters to a Christmas Dinner. None of the men. That wouldn't do! After the rest were gone, we resolved to have a Christmas Day too!"
Stephenson explained how they "borrowed a little here and there and gathered together some rice, brown sugar, whiskey, spice, flour and corn meal," out of which they concocted a rice pudding and an oven cake of "batter bread." "The cooking of that dinner! Shall I ever forget it. Neither of us knew anything about cooking, nor had any "turn" for it. We did other needed things in the mess…The batter bread was reasonable enough to look at, but the Rice Pudding was a sight to see, ominous, threatening to play havoc with our insides. But that Rice Pudding did not know soldiers' stomachs. We ate that pudding, all of it. It was vile, but we ate it and laughed as we ate it until the tears ran from our eyes and our sides ached! We shook as we sat turn fashion, around it, and reeled in our seats, and shouted over it."
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Captain Charles Wills, of the 8th Illinois Volunteer Cavalry, writes home about how his camp celebrated the New Year of 1862: "Yesterday, New Year, the camp enjoyed a general frolic. A hundred or two cavalry boys dressed themselves to represent Thompson's men and went galloping around camp scattering the footmen and making noise enough to be heard in Columbus. The officers of the 11th Infantry were out making New Year calls in an army wagon with 30 horses to it, preceded by a splendid band. The 'boys" got a burlesque on the "ossifers." They hitched 20 mules to a wagon and filled it with a tin pan and stovepipe band, and then followed it in 60- mule wagon around camp and serenaded all the headquarters.
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December 24th
Clerling, Tennessee
My dear beloved companion, through many well directed changes of providence I once more have this glorious privilege of writing to you once more to let you know that I am still in the land of the living and blessed with good health. It has been a long time since I have heard a word from you. The last letter I received from you was dated September the 2 and one August the 21. I have those two letters yet I often read those 2 letters to remembrance of you. I still have your likeness reading your letters and looking at your likeness is all the comfort I have in the last five months. Oh, my dear, I want to hear from you the worst way. I sometimes think I never will get to hear from you again still I should live in hopes if I die in despair. The visit to Illinois done me a heap of good but not half as much as if I had got to seen you and my little babies. I want to see my mother of one more than anyone on earth except you. I want to see Papa, too.
I never shall forget their kindness that they have shown towards me whilst in their presence and whilst absent from them. I never can pay the debt I owe to them whilst here I am in the sunny South trying to help to put this cruel rebellion down there taking care of my little family. I should love them as father and mother and do thank God I have a respectful father and mother yet they have never written me a line since I have been in the Army but as they are old I can look over them. I reckon Papa and Mother thinks they have enough to do to take care of you, dear, and our little children. Well, I reckon that is the case. I do not hear much more news.
General Thurman [--could be Sherman--] is still moving on having great success without much fighting. The most fighting I hear is with the bush whackers. They seem to be doing all the fighting at this time. There was two men killed last night 2 miles from this city by the bush whackers. They was citizens that was killed.
My dear, I want you to give me all the news that you can when you get this letter I am afraid to hear from you all. Afraid that your father's house is burnt and you all destroyed. I want you and Papa to send me word whether it will be safe for me to come there when my time is out, but that will be some months yet. My time will be out the 6 day of August and that will be nearly 8 months and then I will soldier with you the rest of my days. That is what is the matter. I do not know when I can get to my regiment but I rather think it will be some time. Therefore, I shall not be able to draw any money until I can get to the regiment. My dear I am very sorry that I can't send you some money but I will have to do without myself. But, dear, let us do the best we can and wish for the better. As for my part I can do without any money but I want you to have it but what I can't make up to you now, I can after awhile.
I went out about 15 miles this week a foraging. I got 12 chickens and 2 hogs so I shall live pretty well as long as they last. The weather has been very disagreeable here this winter. So far a lot of rain and some snow. It is raining today. Now I must write a letter for my children.
My dear if you have sent me letters to the regiment I will not get them until I go to my command. And if you have sent me your likeness I will not get it either so you must tell me in your next letter if you have sent those. I would write to my captain to send my letters to me that you sent to the regiment if you have sent any but there is never communications to Thurman [--Sherman?--] at all. I sent you a letter yesterday. Today is Sunday and I have been waiting all day. I would have got letters from you before this time but Old [--unreadable--] was on the railroad between Chattanooga and Nashville but the 15 of this month he got routed with a heavy loss so none of my letters I guess will go to you now.
My dear I wish I could enjoy Christmas with you all but can't this year but if I and you should live to see next Christmas we will be together I trust. My dear I often think of the happy hours and days that we used to spend together and Oh to God that day may come again. I often think when we was once so happy and free but now I am banished from the presence of a kind and loving companion. It grieves me still I must be contented and live in hopes if I die in despair I want to see all of my friends and relatives. I want to see my sweet little babies but above all I want to see you my dear beloved Levica the best and goodness. I love you better than the things of this world. I would sacrifice everything in this war for your comfort and happiness and if it was your request I would sacrifice my life if it would make you happy.
A few words for my little babies and I will close. Tell little Jimmy to kiss his Ma for me and little Hattie for me and Grandpa and Grandmother. Tell little Jimmy to sleep at Ma's feet and hug them in his arms and keep them warm this cold winter and I will bring him a little pair of boots and a nice little knife and hat. Tell my sweet little girl Ma I will bring her a nice little cloak and a hood and some nice beads and a pair of little shoes. And now, Ma, I want you to kiss little James and Hattie in remembrance of me and I'll bring you several of the nicest presents that can be had. Among them will be a silk dress so dear I reckon I have written enough at this time. Give my love and respect to all inquiring friends if there should be any and my best love and respect to you dear. I have plenty of paper you need not send me any. I can get all I want.
Dear, I commenced this letter several days ago and this is Christmas Eve. I must tell you a little more and then I will close. The 20 of this month there was a man hung for murdering. He was a bush whacker. I saw him hang. It was a hard scene. I have seen men die. Every man but that was the hardest.
The boys is all at a party and I am alone. There was a very nice young lady call to my office this evening and invited me to a dance but politely thanked the lady for her kindness. I asked her if she did not think I was a married man and the reply she said perhaps your wife is dead. I told her I would not take her word for it. Dear I will finish the story in the next letter and I will write tomorrow for my Christmas feast.
William Craig
"I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year." ~Charles Dickens, Ebeneezer Scrooge, A Christmas Carol~
"Go Inside Magazine, Civil War Magazine" (Joyce Kohl)
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Defense of City Point Va. "Fort Merriam"
December 25th 1864 Christmas Day
My Dear Wife
Just four short years ago tonight you and I solemnly plighted our faith to each other, for so long as we both should live – you my darling are now far, far away from me in our Northern home, and (surrounded by your little innocent babes,) I can fancy you teaching the evening prayer, or lulling the young head to sleep, with that sweetest of all songs a mother’s lullaby – I was Officer of the Day yesterday, and of course was up most all night. As morning was near dawning I made my usual rounds, to watch the tired sentinels, and see that all was right – Returning back to my quarters, how swiftly memory brought back the last Christmas Holiday and contrasted it with this – It seemed as if I could almost hear the Christmas Chimes – Strange Chimes we have we have here – Cracking Rifles, and booming Cannon, sometimes on the Picket line, bright clashing Saber strokes, ends the monotony. I am coming home, God willing, and before long
I have been very sick again, owing to a severe cold settling on my throat and lungs – I could not talk or swallow except with great difficulty –
Even now the Doctor wants me to go to the Hospital, but I won’t go again if I can possibly do my duty properly here – My horse is partly to blame for my cold - I rode him down to the Hospital and the Point, coming back I stopped at the Sanitary Commission a moment, I tied "Black Ned" to a post, and I thought him all right -, but soon after I went in Mr. Ned slips off his bridle and takes French leave - When I came out to ride home, I had no horse, only a bridle - The night was pitch dark and the roads muddy _ I borrowed a Lantern and plodded home on foot, carrying the bridle - When I got home, no horse was there - So I laid down in my tent for an hour or so to wait and give him a chance to come home, but Mr. Ned kept away – So buckling on my saber, with my lantern in hand, away I went again down to the Hospital, and after hunting until Midnight I found the black rascal, snugly stowed away in a stable – He had been picked up by a guard, and put there – His feet had to travel coming home that night - . I had no bridle either –
Yesterday we had a fine drill, all by the Bugle calls – worked first rate
Please ask Grandmother if she got the letter I sent her with some Secesh money in it?
Don’t forget it Pet –
Love to all – Kiss the children for me
Affect.
Your own Husband,
Samuel J. Bradlee
Senior 1st Lt.
14th Mass. Lt. Battery
"Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time." ~Laura Ingalls Wilder~
"The Samuel J. Bradlee Letters"
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From the American Civil War Museum Blog: https://acwm.org/blog/december-2017-artifact-month-christmas-letter
By Robert Hancock
Director of Collections & Senior Curator
Three days before Christmas in 1863, Nathaniel J. Cundiff, a soldier in the 10th Battalion, Virginia Heavy Artillery, took up pen and paper to write to his mother in Bedford County.
Punctuation has been added, but the original spelling has been retained.
December 22, 1863
Dear Mother:
I take mi seat this morning to drop you a few lines to let you know that I am well and doing the best I can and I hope if theas lines should reach your hands they may find you and all the family well and doing well. Mother, I have drawed me a blanket [drawn ie: been issued] and am making very well. Times is very hard here, everything to eat is hie and scarce her[e]. We get very light rashens hardly a naugh to live on and I am afraid that times wil get wors in stid of beter as I don’t see any hops of Peace.
It is now nearly Cristmas and I expect to spend a lonesome Cristmas. I expect to be on the Darby town road on guard at Christmass. I would be very glad to be at home to spend mi cristmas at home with you. But there isn’t any chance for me to come a tall. Mother, the most of the company is well. James Howell and James Morris are both well at this time.
Mother, I don’t her of mutch fiting a going at present. Mother, you must write to me and give me all the news of the neighborhood. Write how all hour friends and relatives is geting on. Tell them all I would be glad to see them all.
Mother, they have got Steven Witt in castle thunder [a jail located in Richmond]. He was on gard in Richmond and on his post some things was missplaced and they arested all the men that wer on that post tho he is clear of doing any thing that was rong about hit so he will get out clear shortly clear and safe. Mother, write how brother Calvin is geting on. I haven’t any news to write to you at this time. I will haf ter come to a close. You must write to me often. I remain your son untill death.
From N.J. Cundiff to Mrs. Mary Cundiff
Nathaniel survived the war, was paroled at Appomattox, and lived to the age of 73. He died at the Soldiers’ Home in Richmond and is buried in Hollywood Cemetery.
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