Stafford C. H. [BCF]
Jan. 25,1863

Dear Annie,

I found your letter of the 14th here, last night, when we arrived. Please do not think of not sending me a letter, because you fancy it stupid; for they always give me a great deal of pleasure. Since I have been at home, I have begun to think that the war may very possibly come to a more sudden end than I have hitherto supposed, unless there is a great change in the feelings of the people. What I saw and heard in public conveyances and hotels surprised me very much; and one would think that the men who have remained quietly at their firesides were the principal sufferers, to judge from their complaints. Morse and I left Washington yesterday morning, and came down to Aquia Landing by boat. There we took the train to Brooke’s Station, which is three miles from here, and walked the rest of the way. The roads are in a condition which no one who has not seen them could imagine, and as it was quite dark we floundered about in the mud, in a very uncertain manner. We finally came across an officer, who directed us to our camp, and we got safely in about 8 P.M.

The corps had a very hard march down here;—while it was so cloudy and threatening at Lenox, it was raining hard here, and every one was soaked through and through for two or three days. The artillery had to throw away their ammunition, and the commissaries the rations, in order to get their wagons through the mud. As it was, many waggons were abandoned, and many mules were so hopelessly stuck in the mud, that they had to be left to end their days there. They sunk so deep in some places that only their heads could be seen,—so I am told, at least; but the story seems rather a startling one. The rate of marching was two to three miles a day; and the last day the men were without a morsel of food. You can imagine the difficulties of a winter
campaign in Virginia. In Washington, I heard, and you probably know by this time, that Burnside’s move is entirely given up, the whole army having stuck in the mud.

Dear Annie, I have thought a great deal of you‚—indeed almost all the time since I left Lenox‚—and of my visit to you, especially the last part of it. O, dear! you don’t know how much I should like to see you again!

Good night; with much love, your

Bob

Stafford CourtHouse Va. [HL]
January 25 1863

Dear Effie,

Your letter from Milton of Jan. 18 induces me to address myself to you this morning. I wrote to Father & Mother from Washington & hope they received my letters.

Morse & I left that town yesterday morning & came by boat to Aquia Cr. Landing. We arrived there about 1 P.M. and waited for a train until about 4— having got some bean (pebble) soup on board a canal boat for dinner. The cars took us to Brooke’s Station about three miles from this camp, and from there we walked through the mud & darkness. After many inquiries & many unsatisfactory & often impertinent answers from individuals who had apparently been riled by having been asked similar questions from early dawn, we finally stumbled on C. Wheaton, Jr. the illustrious. The sight of him calmed our ire, which was fast rising at hearing a man advise another (as we turned our backs) to tell the first person who asked him a question “to go to hell.” Wheaton directed us on our way and we soon arrived within sight of our camp-fires.

We find that we escaped the most miserable march the regiment ever made. The storm on Wednesday & Thursday was very severe and put the roads in such a condition that rations & ammunition had to be thrown away, many (even empty) wagons abandoned and mules left to die in mud holes. It rained hard for two days & on one of them the men went for nearly 24 hours without food. As I wrote Father, the movement of Burnside’s Army has been entirely abandoned. They say the Rebels put out a large placard opposite Falmouth, saying: “Burnside stuck in the mud.” “Shan’t we come across & help you with your pontoons?” The letters were large enough to be easily read from our side. I hope you wrote or will write to Annie H. as you intended to, and that you will get well acquainted with her when she comes down to stay with Susie. Tell her to stand straight. No you needn’t say so from me. I don’t feel certain that she considers the matter entirely settled.

They think here that the political troubles at home are going to finish the war before long. If we are not going to fight it out, the sooner it ends, the better. If we do make a peace now, we shall have to go at it again one of these days, I am sure, unless slavery dies out in the mean time.

The Paymaster came up with us, and we arc going to receive four months’ pay.

Did you go to tea at Col. Lowell’s at last?

Give my love to Nellie. I am waiting to hear about the secret society.

Your loving brother

Rob

Tags: BCF, Robert Shaw

Washington, D.C. [BCF]
Jan. 23,1863

Dear Mother,

We arrived here at, or about 8 o’clock this morning, and find we can’t get away until to-morrow morning. We were an hour and a half too early last evening, as the train left at 7 1/2 instead of 6. It was provoking to find we might have spent the time at the house. If we had come in the 11 P.M. train, it would have been early enough, as we must remain here to-day.

What do you think was offered me this morning? A place as Aide on General Heintzleman’s Staff, if I could get an order detailing me away from my Corps. I don’t know what I should do, if the order should make its appearance without any seeking; but I hate to take any steps to have myself detailed away from the regiment. I shouldn’t think it wrong to do so, but a great many of our officers would; and it is very disagreeable to have men say that you are enjoying a pleasant position, by making their duty heavier. It would be a very pleasant change, and it is a very nice staff. Leo Hunt is Heintzleman’s Assistant Adjutant-General; and Johnson, whom I knew very well in Boston, is one of his Aides. It was the latter who made the proposal. I shall do nothing about it myself.

There are no sleeping cars from New York to Philadelphia; but I was so used up for want of rest, that I slept almost all the way. At Philadelphia we got a bunk, and I didn’t wake up again until we arrived here.

If you have any talk with Annie, please find out whether she feels as I told you I thought she did, before you take anything for granted. This letter has been all about myself. Give my love to Father, Susie, and the girls, and tell George and Anna that I was very sorry not to see them and the babies again.

With much love to yourself,
Your affectionate Son

Tags: BCF, Robert Shaw

Fairfax Station, Va. [BCF]
Jan. 10,1863

Dear Annie,

Your letter of the 5th inst., enclosing the vignette, came last night. At first I thought the latter was not good at all, but now I begin to like it, and am very glad indeed to have it. I have noticed that very often you must get acquainted with a portrait before you like it.

I begin to think, Annie, that there will be enough fighting in the country to give us all plenty of occupation for the rest of our lives, even if they are not shortened by bullet or cannon-ball. If a peace is patched up with the South, I don’t believe it can be a permanent one, and if the war goes on for another eighteen months, other nations are likely to be drawn into it. I hope I may be mistaken, for, though I don’t think the soldiers are so much to be pitied as the fathers, mothers, wives, and sisters, who have to stay at home, there are few who are not heartily sick of the war. The anxiety some people must feel for their relatives in the army, is a great deal worse, I think, than anything we have to bear.

You asked me once if I knew why McClellan lay still after the battle of Antietam. We have never been able to discover why Lee was allowed to withdraw as he did. When we heard that he had gone, the day after the battle, we said it would ruin McClellan. After the Rebels got into Virginia, there were many good reasons given for not pursuing. We were not well supplied with ammunition (at least, I know that to have been the case in our Corps), our force was not so large as theirs, and our men were scattered by thousands from Frederick to Sharpsburg—our troops always get scattered after a fight, and the new ones are much worse than the old. If a hard march precedes the battle, of course that adds to the number of stragglers. It may be true that McClellan is not rapid enough in carrying out his plans, but I wish he were in Halleck’s place.

I have read Cairne’s book and Lecture. It is a pity they have not more such good and clear-headed men in England. I have just read “Gurowski’s Diary.” It is very amusing, if no more, and no doubt there is much truth in it. The book I swear by now, is “Napier’s Peninsular War.” I have not read anything that has given me so much pleasure for a long while.

Did I tell you we were all comfortably hutted now? The men are all in log-shanties with fireplaces — four men in a mess — and the officers occupy palatial residences, seven or eight feet square, usually two in each. We can defy the weather, and if we are “let alone” for a time, we shall pass a comparatively pleasant winter.

I want to go home, I cannot tell you how much, in February, but I do not see any chance of it now. Tell your mother not to trouble herself to answer my letter. I didn’t expect an answer, as I knew she didn’t write much.

Yours affectionately,

R. G. Shaw
p.S.— I wonder if you have received all my letters. Often I can only tell the date of yours by the postage-mark, for you give the day of the week merely.

Tags: BCF, Robert Shaw

Fairfax Station [BCF]
Jan. 8,1863

Dearest Mother,

On the outside of my last letter to you I mentioned having received yours enclosing one from Uncle Henry; we have had no letters for some time now; there is a hitch in the mail every little while.

The other day I wrote to George, and spoke of what you wrote me about McClellan, in a way which I thought afterwards might look rude on paper. I didn’t mean it so, and I wish you would tell him. It is astonishing how much the meaning of a sentence may be changed by the manner in which it is said, and consequently how a written sentence may be misunderstood.

We hear that Hooker will probably be made commander-in-chief before long. I believe he will be a failure too. Though he got us so much glory at Antietam, neither he nor his Corps were on the field after 8 1/2 A.M. We were under his command part of the time, or at least received orders from him, and they were thought to be pretty wild ones then. If we do change our commander again, and the new one doesn’t do any better than his predecessors, I should think a crisis in our affairs might be expected. I hope the battle in the West may turn out to be as important as is supposed.

We are all comfortably housed in log-huts, with brick fireplaces, and can laugh at the cold for the present. Harry and I are as cosey as possible in a house seven by six, with a tent for a roof. I feel almost as if I were at home, after the exposure and discomfort of the last three weeks. We may be ordered off at any moment though, so that we don’t indulge in any hopes of escaping the frosts of January.

We have been reading “Bleak House,” and I didn’t remember how many beautiful things there were in it. I am reading “Napier’s Peninsular War” to myself, and it is really a classic work; I never knew before, either, what a man Sir John Moore was, nor was so impressed with Napoleon’s military genius. It is a great book, and a great many things in it apply to the conduct of our war. Speaking of one of Napoleon’s letters to Joseph Bonaparte, he says: “Then followed an observation which may be studied with advantage by those authors who, unacquainted with the simplest rudiments of military science, censure the conduct of generals, and, from some obscure nook, are pleased to point out their errors to the world; authors who, profoundly ignorant of the numbers, situation, and resources of the opposing armies, pretend, nevertheless, to detail with great accuracy the right method of executing the most difficult and delicate operations of war.” The observation he refers to is: “But it is not permitted at the distance of three hundred leagues, without even a statement of the condition of the army, to direct what should be done.” In another place, he says: “A ruinous defeat, the work of chance, often closes the career of the boldest and most sagacious of generals; and to judge of a commander’s conduct by the event alone, is equally unjust and unphilosophical, a refuge for vanity and ignorance.”

Did Father get my letter asking him to forward my coat lined with red flannel? If you have given it away, no matter. I can get along perfectly well without it, and if not, can get another from Baltimore. We have had some very warm woollen jackets issued to us lately, which are almost as good as an overcoat. Out men are all as well housed as the officers, each house having a fireplace in it. Give my love to Susie, and tell her not to nourish the hope that I can get away in February. I don’t think there is any chance of it.

What a great year this is for the negroes and the country! I don’t appreciate it at all times. If we get the Mississippi, it will make a great difference, I should think, in the spreading of the President’s Proclamation. I read Mrs. Stowe’s “Reply” in the January “Atlantic,” and liked it very much.

With love to Father, always your most
Affectionate Son

Tags: BCF, Robert Shaw