Sunday, November 29, 2020

Civil War Letter - A Soldier complains - December 22 1863

 Chenango Union, Norwich, NY, January 27, 1864

Folly Island, Camp of 89th N.Y.S. Vol., Charleston Harbor, Dec. 22d [1863]

Your welcome paper has once more been received, and brings with it pleasing recollections of home and its pleasures so often and dearly remembered.  The sight of your paper, like that of an old friend from home, makes us feel cheerful and communicative too.  If we meet an old friend way down here in the barren wastes of South Carolina we feel like talking over with him the difference in our former positions and associations, and those in which we are now placed.  So too with your paper.  I am going to have a chat with it.  If I say anything to it that others do not like, I don't wish them to take me to task, for I am not talking to them.  I am conversing only with the paper.

Now that my position and object are fully defined, I will begin.  We are not clothed in broad cloth, or fine linen, but in simple blue, Uncle Sam's blue.  We are allowed 42 dollars worth in a year; if we do not draw the full allowance, when payday comes the residue is given us in cash.  I mean so the book reads; but is it so in all cases?  The officers' darkies are pretty well clothed, and some of the officers have several of them in the course of a few months.  Now, to my certain knowledge, these darkies' clothes have, in many instances, been deducted from what lawfully belongs to the soldiers.

2d.  Back Rations:  Why, you cannot give a better definition of "back rations" to a soldier than to say "Ghost;" for one is like the other, a spiritual being which is much talked of, but seldom seen or felt.  I have known of several hundred dollars in back rations being collected and going into the pockets of Company officers.  In some cases the men would receive half a dozen boxes of blacking, a few papers of tobacco and a clay pipe apiece; but in most cases nothing at all.  Now, my Dear Paper, I do not want you to imagine that I mean all Company officers act so meanly.  Oh no; we have many officers who are men, and honest men at that; but in too many instances we have brainless; conceited simpletons over us, or drunken, worthless knaves.  Murder will out, some day. What do you think of an officer who will collect money to defray express expenses on which members of his company have entrusted to him to send home for them, and puts the money in his pocket, leaving the charges to be paid by friends at home?  So of an officer who makes it his regular business every payday to rob his men of their money by the black arts of gambling?  There seems to be a sort of "Masonry" or some other kind of cement, between officers in certain regiments to shield each other from any just retribution which might, if they stood alone, follow their misdeeds. But the day of retribution will come surely. There are men in the ranks who are every way worthier than their so called "superiors," who are snubbed and abused like dogs; they must put up with it or for the sake of "good order and military, discipline" (how quick a private will find himself fined or court martialed if he offends an officer, and all for the sake of discipline, when they for worse offences escape unpunished).  But a day is coming, when, dressed in a peaceable citizen's dress, and about their own business, they can look with scorn and contempt on these whelps, and tell them too what they are before people; and the rascally dogs will be able to find no better satisfaction than grinding their teeth in silence; and if they have any pride, leaving for parts where they are unknown.

Well, my dear paper, i have talked to you till you are black and white in the face, and I will therefore stop short by bidding you an affectionate good bye till next time.

B. Hunter


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