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Monday Evening June 16th [1862]

I received yours of June 9th this eve- ning – Am very much disturbed that you were so long receiving my letters after the battle. I mailed one to you with each one that Daniel wrote – put the first one in the P[ost] O[ffice] at R[ich]mond myself. I can imagine how much you must have suffered – there must have been something wrong about the mail at Townesville [North Carolina]. I also mailed one to Ma the 2[n]d day after the fight, & re- ceived one from Pattie this evening of the same date with yours – they had not received my letter to Ma either. Oh, dear, when you write & tell me how you feel about my absence, and how much you miss me at home, I feel as if I could break away from the army and come to you. Does it not make you feel worse about my absence to stay at home. When you feel so

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badly, I think it would be best for you to go up to your Pa’s & stay a few days there and at Aunt Judy’s. I know I [‘know I’ underscored] couldn’t live at home, if you were away so long – and the only thing which enables me to bear being from you so well now (if I may call it so well) is the con- stant employment and excitement of the service. Please mention in your letters sometimes, something [‘sometimes, something’ underscored] about your health. You never speak of it at all. I am sorry to hear that the negroes have the dysentery – You should be very careful with them, as it may turn to typhoid fever, - also have all the [?] pulled up & cut down in and around the yard. Caution Mr. Harris about the management of the [Bowers?] wheat, as it is very easily injured in the [shank?] & stack – it should be as carefully managed as oats, and allowed to take as little rain as

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possible before being threshed – also ask him to take care of all my oats & not to let Adam put them in too large stacks. Oh, Darling, if I could only be at Home now for a month – I sometimes think I will try to get a fur- lough, but I know it will be useless. If your Pa will find a man to take my place for a month, I think I could get off for that time – if he would send him to R[ich]mond to Mrs. Howison it could be easily managed I think. I would be willing to pay him my bounty of $50 for a month service. -yes mine. Tell Mr. Harris to caution my reapers about cutting clean & saving the grain nicely, & to be sure to save the grain, [underscored] even if the other crops should suffer – tell Smiley to write to me again & tell me about the crops & the [stack?] – his letter was very interesting to me – tell Mr. H[arris] to save clover seed.

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as I have a pretty large crop of [saule?] grain to cut. Mr. H[arris] had better look out for reapers – he may succeed in hiring one or two. (Tuesday Morning) You spoke of the attentions the ladies of R[ich]mond paid the sick & wounded. I have never seen anything like it – couldn’t help shedding tears every time I saw it. The eve- ning I got to R[ichmond] sick I was walking up the street with another sick soldier, almost entirely ex- haused. We met a beautiful your girl about Mildred’s age, who stopped us to know if we would have anything to eat. Went into the first hospital I saw & an old lady come immediately to us with a nice plate of chicken soup – soon a little girl not much larger than [Mary G.?] came bringing a saucer of rice custard – it was so all the time we staid in that hospital. It was more affecting to see their attention to the wounded – Young girls laid aside all re- serve & waited on strangers as they would on their own brothers – dressed their wounds -batted their foreheads – kept off the flies -fed them – fixed their beds & clothes. And they seem never to weary – there is no telling how many lives they have saved. I frequently hear the soldiers, blessing the ladies of R[ichmond]. Y[ou]r devoted husband N[athanel] V. W[atkins]

[Marginalia – top of page]

(I still continue to write three times a week when it is possible Tom) Booker thinks I overdo the matter)

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Camp “Stonewall Jackson” June 16th 1862.

My dear wife: -

Doc came down from Richmond yes- terday (Sunday) evening – just as we were leaving camp for a march through the mud & rain to drive back a small de- tachment of the enemy who had come up & driven in our pickets – we marched about three miles & heard they had returned, and came back to camp. – The little bun- dle you sent came just in time, as it en- abled me to put on a full suit of dry, clean clothes – I was sorry, dear Nannie, to see how much you have suffered from anxiety for me – I wrote immediately after the battle & would have sent the letter Monday if I could have gotten it in the mail. I know now that you have heard all about the part our boys took in the fight, & how they fared. You spoke of my getting a furlough – this is utterly impossi- ble unless I am sent home on sick furlough.

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and I have kept so well that I hope it will not be necessary for me to be sent home sick – though I sometimes feel as if I would almost be willing to come sick, rather than not come at all. I am so anxious to be with you at home again. I might possibly get home if I could pro- cure a temporary substitute, a strong able bodied man, to take my place while absent. Dear darling, you don’t know how much I long to be with you – I sometimes feel as if I cant stand it any longer. But there are hundreds of men in the army who have been longer from their families, and are farther from them, and who cant hear from them on account of the communication being cut off by the enemy. The little pen- cil note you sent by Doc is the only letter I have gotten since I have been in this Reg[imen]t. The last I got was dated June 2[n]d. The others have been sent to Gen[eral] [Robert Emmett] Rhodes [‘h’ struck-through] Brigade, but will I

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hope reach me after a while. You must direct now to “care Capt [‘care Capt’ struck-through] Richmond Care of Capt[ain] Bagley, 4th Reg[imen]t V[irgini]a Heavy artillery, Gen[eral] [Henry Alexander] Wise’s Brigade.” Abe had been quite sick, we sent him to Richmond yesterday, and are try- ing to get a sick furlough for him. I miss him more than any in our mess. I saw Col[onel] [John Thomas] Goode to-day about Johnny’s furlough [struck-through] discharge, He signed a recommendation for it, & promised to get Gen[eral] Wise’s sig- nature, and thought he could get his discharge. I will write to Mr. Booker as soon as I get the necessary signatures. The shirts & socks you sent were the very things, but since marching I have been wear- ing the thick ones I bought. They have lasted me, are still good & protect my feet from blisters - I will keep the fine ones until I need them. I find the thick ones bet- ter for infantry. Don’t write any more with a pencil – it [rubs?] out after car-

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rying the letter in my pocket. Don’t let your distance from P[ost] O[ffice] prevent you from writing as often as you can. I always get low spirited when I fail to get letters from you. Try not to feel too anxious for me – when you do you had better make a little trip home, or a visit in the neighborhood. If we could just trust ourselves & each other entirely entirely [struck-through] in God’s hands, it would prevent a great deal of this anxiety & solicitude. I feel now more than ever how weak in my faith - our prayer should be for greater faith & cheerful resignation to God’s will. I have written very hastily – cant send this until to-morrow & it will not be mailed before Wednesday. Kiss our precious children for me – Much love to all – the negroes – neighbors - & all at your Pa’s. Write about home things & tell me how every thing looks & how the crops [promise?]. May God watch over you all darling & keep you from all harm. Y[ou]r [de...tion] husband N[athaniel] V. W[atkins]