Oneonta Herald, Oneonta, NY, May 29, 1861
Letter from the War
Headquarters, 71st Regiment, N.Y. S.V.; Washington Navy Yard, Sunday, May 12, 1861
Friend James: Now look out for a bore - one of the first magnitude. This is the first time I have taken a pen in my hand since leaving New York and I shall make up for lost time with a vengeance. However, you are like all other unfortunates, you brought it all on yourself - you requested me to write to you; you have cause to return thanks for one thing, that is, that this is all the paper I possess.
It's a fine thing to be a soldier - a very fine thing. It accustoms a person to eating sour victuals without making wry faces. For instance, when I drew my first rations of sull hose aboard the R.R. Culver (the vessel we came to Annapolis in) I walked aft, inspected it on all sides and then deliberately gave it to the sharks. Now, I am like the patron saint of the craft in America, Ben Franklin. I eat everything set before me, whether fish, flesh or fowl, amphibious or otherwise, then lick my fingers and plate and cry "more," with more fervency than ever Oliver Twist did. When I "return from the wars" I shall on no condition sleep on a bed. I will give it to some poor person. You don't know what a huge amount of softness can be extracted from mother earth by a little persuasion and it's something of a knack to tell at first feel which is the softest side of a hemlock plant. Planks were luxuries on [-unreadable-].
If I had the pen, ink, paper, time and inclination, I would give you in detail the joys and sorrows of a soldier's life in my usual graphic style. But as they will all simultaneously give out at the end of this sheet, I must confine myself to moderate brevity. Besides, "brevity is the soul of wit." Therefore I'm going to be witty (sage conclusion).
Humpty, Dumpty - I've seen the Capitol - individually - also, Washington - also Abe Lincoln - also Billy Seward - the two last named objects I have shaken hands with. If the Almighty lets us live long enough - say 1800 years - the Capitol and Washington will be fine places to visit. At present they are both unfinished. The former will possibly get finished in fifty years, the latter never.
In my youthful days, before I was a military man, I thought Troy could boast as much dirt and filth as any city could well afford. I have changed my opinions - change is a great thing - all things are liable to change - nothing is mutable (sotto voce by Brewer). I wish I had a little of it in my pocket. Change is a great thing. It's like all of Mrs. Toodle's purchases - so handy to have in the house. Seriously the Capitol is a fine building, and at present if any artist could paint it as it is, he could make his fortune. On the outside the entrances are choked up with barrels - pork, four and everything. But the most interesting portion of it lies in the Representative and Congressional Chambers. The last time I saw it (Thursday) in the house of Representatives, a man from Massachusetts occupied the seat made vacant by Billy Seward, with his feet on the desk and a cigar in his mouth. I think it was occupied in a manner extremely unique and original. In the Congressional Chamber, the scene from above was splendid - Soldiers from Massachusetts, from New York, from Pennsylvania, from New jersey, &c., every regiment having a different uniform, all presenting a variety of color and posture never before seen in the Capitol.
The last time I saw Lincoln was one week ago today. He and Billy Seward came down to inspect the Sloop-of-War Pensacola - a vessel that has cost $600,000 and is not completed yet. Its equipment is now at a standstill, owing to the Chief Engineer's leaving, who was a Secessionist, and who left soon after the 71st took possession of the yard. The President looked like a man who was completely fagged out. A lot of us, who were inspecting the large guns, saw him get out of his carriage and go aboard her. We drew up in line and when he returned, uncovered. He chatted with us familiarly. I had the impudence to ask him to order a detachment of the 71st to go down to Alexandria, seven miles from here, to pull down the Secession flag flying there. He replied that he should be happy to do anything to please us boys, but really that was out of his jurisdictions. "My orders," continued he, "will be very general. General Scott will attend to all details." I informed him that the 71st were just the boys to do it. He laughed and said he presumed so. I think he must have thought that I was blessed with a goodly amount of cheek. It's a fine thing to have cheek, every printer possesses it and why not use it.
Our regiment is now the star regiment here and they are just beginning to find it out at home. One day last week there was a flag flying in the City Hall New York with "71" and a star on it. We meant more men on guard duty (some 49), have held a harder march, and have had tougher exertions than all regiments in Washington, combined. These are the sentiments of the people in Washington, and we have pretty good evidence that they are General Scott's, for he assigned this, the Navy Yard, as a post of honor to us and we are not to leave it unless it is our expressed wish to do so. The 7th of New York, produced a good deal of eclat (French you will perceive) the first week they were here, owing to the fact that they were the first regular uniformed regiment here (a Pennsylvania regiment of volunteers were the first body of troops here), but now the general impression is that they are "paper soldiers." The Massachusetts 8th regiment and the 7th of N.Y. came here together. The 8th did the work of rebuilding the railroad and the 7th stood like gentlemen with muskets in their hands and guarded them against imaginary Secession mobs.
A good yarn is told against the Secessionists at Annapolis. When the Massachusetts 8th arrived at Annapolis and took possession of the railroad, they found the locomotive (there were only two locomotives on the road) all taken apart to the smallest screw with the calculation that they could not put it together again. The men went to work, got it out from its hiding place, when one of the men exclaimed "why what's this? why, d--m my eyes, if this isn't the same locomotive I helped make, way down in Portland, Maine, four years ago!" And it was. In less than half a day they had the locomotive up, with a full head of steam on and running between Annapolis and the Junction, rebuilding the road.
But this, like all other earthly things is drawing to a close. It has existed longer than I anticipated when I sat down to commence it.
Yours ever, Homer Brewer