Monday, August 10th 1863
[Camp near Warrenton, Va.]
As I have very little to do this morning, I thought it would be best to employ my time with writing a few lines to you. I am very well and have been so for some time. I have enjoyed better health this summer so far than I ever did before home or abroad. If I can keep my health as good through this month, I will be very thankful for I expect Uncle Sam will need all the help he can get this fall for I think Old General Meade thinks to settle this war with this Fall’s Campaign—at least I hope he does—and hope he will for there has been young men enough stricken down already. When I think of it, it makes me feel very bad to see how many of our family have been bereaved of their dear ones. God grant that my family shall not have to suffer that bereavement. I do not know that I am loved so well but I know it is hard to part with anyone (be he ever so worthless) in this horrible way. Some of our noblest and best men have fell with the rest. It almost seems to me that the best are picked out for most of our best men in the Battery have been taken first. But it must be all for the best just as He wills it, it must be.
We have one of the nicest camps that we have seen since we are in the service. It is a small grove just large enough for our camp situated in the center of a large field so the air—if there is any—can come to us. But where we are now there is not much air stirring for it is near the river and mountains nearly all around us.
Father, I begin to feel a little anxious about that little business. I am afraid it will be lost now for you know volunteers like to change their own officers. I understand there is no drafting but I will have patience. Mr. F[relinghuysen], I think, will do all he can for you. I see that there is to be raised two batteries in Jersey. If I had only been a two-year’s man, I could be home now and I think I could get alright in one of those batteries, but Father, do your best and your son will not disgrace you. Please see Mr. F[relinghuysen] and get all the particulars before you write again. He must know by this time whether there is a chance or not.
I expect you are pretty busy now with hay and oats. Write and let me know how you are getting along—if you have good ones or not. We have got entirely out of the wheat country. Where we are now, there is nothing but daisies and wild carrots. Some places there is some fine grass yet left for us to graze our horses for we have not seen a bit of hay since we left last spring. But we have made some ourselves. We are getting soft bread again and plenty of pork and beans so we shall not suffer. Write soon. Give my love to Mother and all my friends while I remain your affectionate son, — C. V. H.