I hope that our friendship has withstood this long absence in writing, but by day's end I can barely hold pen to hand, and I have become neglectful in all of my correspondence. My "complaints" are of a pleasant nature and under no circumstances meant to sound ungrateful. The mornings pass by quickly and are preoccupied with more physical and pressing activities, whilst Sven and Emaline divert my afternoons with school lessons and nature walks. Even Erik joins us occasionally and my fearless friend has never been happier.
Sven is learning quickly and this once voiceless child can now make simple sentences and recognize words from a basic reader. Sven is a reluctant student, or so it seems, but a gentle rivalry has sprung forth between our little friend and Emaline, which has presented a source of amusement to my teachings. If only for that reason alone, Sven is determined to study a little harder, and comes to our lessons well prepared; and you will be pleased to learn that your jeune ami has shown a remarkable ability to learn the banjo, much to Erik's delight.
Emaline is a wonder and I marvel at her quick wit and comprehension of the world around her. She is blessed with a logical mind and rarely settles for a simple answer, which is both a delight but a trial at times. But I am well pleased also with Emaline's progress, and in a few weeks time I will introduce French to our studies. However, I hasten to inform you that Emaline's skill as a marksman has yet to be determined!
You will be happy to hear that your homestead hums with harmony and we have all fallen ceremoniously into our areas of expertise. Emaline and I have planted a garden that even Aunt Rosemary secretly admires, and between this and our daily hours of barn chores, I am rarely without tousled hair and disheveled clothing. It is becoming difficult to believe that not so long ago I spent my days in leisure, and my evenings in dupioni silk.
The grass remains lush, the horses are of good flesh and their coats gleam from my daily, thorough brushings. To Erik's dismay, I am working with the colts that were born to your farm last year, and they are now both broken to halter and lead well, even with unexpected distractions.
Since the colts have been weaned for sometime, I have started riding the mares and they are both benefiting from daily exercise and individual attention. I'm quite fond of both horses, but the bay mare holds my greater affection as I find her the more tractable of the two, and she is a steady and willing worker. Your chesnut mare is still of the mindset that she can leave the farm without me at any given moment, and we have had many an argument as to who is choosing the speed and direction!
How I wish that you could see Erik of late as he is a joy to behold and in a few short months, our friend has been transformed into a different man. He has become fierecely protective of your property, and no one works more diligently and with more effort than my gentle friend. But Erik has been forbidden to enter the kitchen, and rather than feel the wrath of Aunt Rosemary, my friend spends his days outdoors and has become a master repairman and handyman extraordinaire. Erik's physical strength has been a blessing to a household of mostly females, and his impetuous laughter has become endearing to us all.
Carlie and I have become like sisters and I understand now why you hold her in such high esteem. She is the diplomat in the family and if not for your sister, I fear that your Aunt Rosemary would have met with an unhappy demise on more than one occasion.
I had an unfortunate incident in town several days past, and much to my chagrin, I could not hold my anger in check. I have not told Erik as it is certain that he would rush to my defense, but it would appear that even in a small town that has been made barren by war, a human being will dwell, if only to appear as rubbish.
We hear news that the war is almost over, yet this does little to bolster our spirits. Food has become scarce, and although we are still managing better than others, our isolation allows our imaginations to wander, and we fear that peace and tranquility will never be restored to this hopeless land. There has also been talk of illness running throughout your camp and I fear for your health, and that of William, Kevin and the Corporal and Mrs. Steele. We pray every night that you will be spared from disease and sickness, and that you will soon return to us in safety.
I have enclosed a sheet of paper and if you should find the time, I would take great comfort in knowing that you are well.
I remain your friend,
Maxine
"The wildest colts make the best horses." ~Plutarch~
I am glad to hear of good tidings from home; the knowledge that those I treasure are safe and doing well gladdens the heart. Theidea of young Ms Emaline with a pistol worries me I will admit. Though, the thought of looking down the barrel is a comforting thought in that I know it would dissuade even the vilest sort. All must remember that many men are indeed of a vile sort, of the basest instinct. They are present both north and south, white and black. Ignore them as the scum that they are; and those that demand notice... for them there is the pistol of Ms Emaline or the scattergun that stands beside the door.
The image of the horses in the yard, fresh vegetables coming up in the garden, the smell of fresh cut hay all a little bit of home. Oh how I miss the homestead; the buildings my father built and the fields I helped to clear and cultivate. All those sights and smells of home that I miss; yet it is what I am fighting for. The lives and freedom of men and children like Erik and Sven. The idea that men and women can be bought and sold and forced to live in servitude. Here in north Georgia we have seen little of the scourge of slavery. But the mark is here, most of the families here who own slaves are small farms with only one or two slaves and the majority of those slaves have been well treated and cared for. Despite this, they are eager to flee to freedom when the chance is presented. The chance of freedom that exists with our arrival is a precious thing to see. With our victory freedom is no longer a flighty dream.
On Friday last the Captain took our mess to escort some prisoners to the railhead. On the way back to the garrison we stopped at the camp of the Iowa boys from the fall. Most had reenlisted and seemed well. The company we pitched our tents with was quite short of private soldiers as most had been detailed away. Because of this the Corporal volunteered us for camp sentinels. We were to check every supply wagon that passed the camp; the Corporal is a wise man as our haversacks were soon bulging with fresh rations.
Riding in one of the wagons was the aged mayor and his widowed daughter. Perhaps half of the locals are loyal Union men; the mayor did not represent them. His particular complaint was that was that “soldiers wearing the blue” had stolen his daughter’s cow. The Corporal thought it probably Wheelers cavalry as they have been in the area and their treatment of Dalton is well known to all. They were taken to the Officer of the day and we did see them leave some time later. I know not if they received satisfaction. The Corporal passed the widow a bag of dried apples as he thought her children might appreciate them.
The Iowa camp was three hundred yards or so from the edge of a small village and a wealthy plantation. The war must no be so bad as the women of the town held a tea. There is a school house full of refugees. A family with eight children resides there; they came scavenging through the camp and foraged a pot and fire grate as well as a good bag of rations. Children are the real victims of this war.
There was a snug little cabin we traded much with. The “lady” of the house was not a day older than Ms Emaline and quite poorly behaved. She did not leave us with a good impression of Southern Ladies. However, her maid and cook were something else entirely. The maid was of the same age and quite kind to us. She traded fresh donuts and early fruits for salt pork and help gathering and splitting wood. I admit to being a bit taken with her as she was so kind and quite fetching. She played a dangerous game being quite flirtatious with the Corporal, Kevin and I. The cook was a quadroon, pleasant and friendly as well as a splendid cook. Her donuts were as good as those of Mrs. Steele, if a bit fancier. I paid her two bits for a loaf of fresh bread and some dried fruit, the Corporal split perhaps a half chord of wood and received a pail full of donuts in trade. Well worth the labor.
On Saturday afternoon we had a bit of a dust up with some Rebels hell bent on burning the supply train. There were about three companies worth of Infantry and a gun. Our field of contention was similar to the hill behind the house if not so steep with thicker underbrush. The Cavalry had warned us of their presence, our mess was given a flank and deployed as skirmishers. We managed to catch them good dropping several; they sent a few volleys our way and skedaddled. And like **** fool green troops we gave chase. They had snuck that gun up so as to flank us with canister and it did frightful execution. WE felt discretion the better part of valor and withdrew, our mess was made rear guard, as our mess had been on the flank we were spared the gift of canister and lost no one. Though, the Corporal had a near miss having his canteen shot away. The Rebs were none too enthusiastic about giving chase when they learned we could shoot straight and were fighting Indian style.
We retired to the camp feeling the fool. We knew we had been licked. The Iowa Sgt Major found a barrel of beer and saw that every man had a chance at it. The Corporal and I partook and to our surprise so did the Captain! I will admit that beer tasted fine to our parched lips.
On Sunday the Rebs tried again; this time we knew their game and bloodied them badly. The Iowa boys pushed them through the woods; our mess was tasked with finding that gun and making sure the Iowans were not so badly hurt as Saturday. We did our job well as the gun got off only one shot before we made it unhealthy for them. We killed one and chased off all but two who we took prisoner. They managed to spike the gun before we took it. The Iowans drove off the Infantry supports with little loss. We buried a handful of Rebs, took perhaps a score of their wounded to hospital and captured a few as well. All for a loss of only three of our own wounded, though to be honest it was a fair exchange for Saturday. We buried good men, both Union and Rebel. I am mightily glad that we are now making our way back to the Regiment and Mrs. Steeles cooking.
God Bless and keep you little sister and friends.
Your Brother & friend
Seth Barnaby
__________________
Shane Christen
American Legion Post 352
SUVCW Camp Abernethy# 48
Lifetime NRA member
3rd MN VI
For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow. Eccl 1:18
This has made for enjoyable reading. Please continue
__________________
P.L. Parault
"Three score and ten I can remember well, within the volume of which time I have seen hours dreadful and things strange: but this sore night hath trifled former knowings."
I have been so despondent these last weeks without hearing from you. It warms my heart so reading your latest despatch that I received today. How I had longed to hear from you. I have written to you, mostly every week and I have not received any letters from you. I miss you so and I think that you miss me also but always remember that you are in my prayers. The good Lord shall keep you safe from all the hardships of a soldiers life, for I believe that you will come home to your family and live the rest or our lives in peace and plenty.
The days and nights have been cold, it looks like snow today. I am warm in my house and I have plenty of wood but I wonder how you are fareing. Do you have a warm blanket? I have been making a quilt for you since you requested a warm one from your last letter. I expect to complete it shortly and will send a box to you. Can you tell me where to send it. You only referred to your company but how do I know where to send it if you do not tell me where you are? Expect to find some letters for the boys in your company and also some eatables for you.
Those wretched yankees passed near here some days ago. They burned the house of an old patriot in the next town. I saw the smoke from the hill. We have to lock our doors every night, for we can wake up to a house full of those blue bellies. I feel safe most times, for I sleep with my fathers pistol beneath my bed. Only they do not know it is not loaded. It tears at me to see them worshiping in our church. That old church is sacred to me, and they have desicrated it by stepping foot into it and saying their mock prayers to God. Sometimes I wish one of our cannonballs would just sweep them off so they are no more, but that is unchristian to think those thoughts when I should be praying for you and yours. If you see my son, tell him I think of him every day, and I long for both of you to come home.
Affectionatley,
Your Sarah
__________________ Well behaved women rarely make history.
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