Union News, Broome Co., NY, August 8, 1861
Washington, July 27, 1861
Mr. Editor: I have been unwell but am better now, able to drop you a line at all events. I was somewhat surprised at the list of killed published in the Republican of Binghamton. there are seven known to be killed in our company alone, (Capt. Rodgers) and some companies lost more than we. That will be all straightened when you receive the official report.
The rebels are making a great blow over their victory, I see by the Southern Journals. They admit their loss to be between three and four thousand killed, and claim ours (which we know to be but little over seven hundred) to be 15,000 men. They claim to have captured 33 cannon, 25,000 stand of arms, 1200 horses, and stores to the value of one million. The truth is, we had but 10 pieces of cannon; all of which we have now but one which was burated at the Run. There was but about 19,000 men engaged. All that were not killed brought back their arms with them, at least we are not 1,000 stand out, all fold, and them mostly spoiled. We had 420 Cavalry, all back but 12, and the stores they brag of capturing is confined to eleven baggage wagons, which the drivers got scared and cut the harness loose and left. They were upset, however, and broken. So much for their boasted captures.
The boys have nearly all of them been sick, not so bad though as to leave camp. The citizens of Washington have nobly responded to this call upon charity, and have been on hand to administer to the sick and wounded such little comforts as the necessity of the case demanded. One man in particular (a Mr. Stuart, living on J street) brought tea, toast and medicine to administer to the sick boys of our barracks, and his two little boys were always on the go with something inviting for us to partake. He is decidedly a Southern man, though union. He don't recognize a negro equality with a white, nor do I either. I begin to believe the negro question to be a humbug like everything else. As far as my experience goes, judging from what I saw through Maryland and fifty miles in Virginia, I have been forced to believe that the "shades" are the happiest race of beings alive. They have no wants but what are supplied and don't do enough to earn their bread, we North would think.
A great many of the friends of our soldiers have been rushing in since the battle of Sunday last to see who is dead and all that. Mr. Sampson of Binghamton was in camp yesterday. His son Will was shot the first charge at the Run in the foot. His wound was not severe, yet I am afraid the rebels made way with him. Mr. Harris Rodgers, Mr. Gregory, Mr. Doubleday and others from Binghamton visited camp yesterday. The Hotels are running over with the soldier's relatives, anxious to hear the fate of their friends.
The soldiers made great preparation for a feast last night which 'twas said the citizens - the ladies more particularly - were going to furnish the Regiment. Early in the afternoon the boys began to erect tables along one side of our camp ground, out of dirty boards, old boxes, &c. 'Twas soon finished and some of the most aristocratic took their straw ticks for table spreads, and about seven the provision began to be distributed along the muddy, greasy boards. The entertainment consisted of two small potatoes, a small biscuit, a slice of bread and butter, one small cucumber cut in vinegar to twenty men and three crackers. That I believe includes the whole and was a happy change from our rations of sour bread, coffee without milk and slice of fat port, which is our regular fare.
The war news for a day or two has been unimportant. The rebels I believe are slowly advancing towards this city, but there is no fear. The defenses on the West side of the river are not to be taken by any force they can bring against it. there are three vessels of war lying off Alexandria and a heavy land force. I think we may not fear any advance from the rebels nearer than Fairfax that is the main body.
I am so sleepy I cannot write any more now. I was on guard last night. Will write tomorrow if I feel well enough.
Yours, Blockhead
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