Radio Script #949

Little Talks on Common Things
November 26, 1972

Civil War letters, written from Union Army camps to relatives at home are always interesting, but they seem especially poignant when written by a soldier who never returned, but died of wounds received in battle.

Such a soldier was Wilson Brown, who wrote in those war years to his family in Larone, Maine, at that time, a well populated village in Fairfield. Most of the preserved letters were addressed to Brown’s sister Sarah, then unmarried, but who later became the grandmother of Waterville’s hardware merchant, Harold Kimball, Sr. Those interesting letters were brought to my attention by the widow of Kimball’s son Harold Kimball, Jr.

Sarah Brown in fact had two brothers in service, Nathaniel as well as Wilson, and the collection contains a few letters from Nathaniel to Sarah. In May, 1862, when the war had been in progress only a little more than a year, President Lincoln called for more troops, and the War Dept. ordered the Governor of Maine to raise at once a new regiment. The result was the 16th Maine Volunteers, commanded by Col. Asa Wildes of Skowhegan. The captain of Co. G was Samuel Belcher of Farmington, and its two lieutenants were Joseph Mellow of Skowhegan and Isaac Thompson of Anson. Except for a few Farmington men who came along with Belcher, Co. G was made up of men from Somerset County. Among them was Wilson Brown of Larone.

On August 4, 1862, the regiment was mustered into federal service at Augusta. It left there by train on August 19 and entered Washington on the 21st. The next day it crossed the Potomac and encamped near the Lee mansion on Arlington Heights, where now is the famous Arlington Cemetery, the burial place of many notables including John and Robert Kennedy. On Sept. 6, 1862, the 16th Maine started for the front near Fredericksburg. By December they were holding the center of the Union line there. They subsequently saw desperate action at Chancelorsville.

Wilson Brown’s first war letter was written to his mother, Mrs. Deborah Brown, at Larone, on August 18, 1862. It was written from Augusta the day before his regiment set off for Washington. “Dear Mother: I seat myself upon a box to let you know I am well and enjoy myself first rate. We leave here tomorrow morning. Sarah was down here last Thursday to see me. I don’t think of much to write at this time, there is so much confusion all about. We have all been paid off and I sent up $170. Get Ellard to settle up that note and take the mortgage up. Fix the rest of the money just as you think best. Goodbye for this time.

The next letter was written from the camp on Arlington Heights, September 1, and was addressed to Sister Sarah.

“I am tough as a nigger and enjoy myself very much. Others have been sick, but so far I have kept out of the hospital. We expect to be in battle before long. There are heavy battles all around us. Pop~ and McClellan are fighting about ten miles from here. We stand a chance of being called upon any hour, for we are under marching orders. We were suddenly called out about four o’clock Friday morning when a company of rebels was seen within a mile of us. My musket was all ready for a fight. Some of our company were scared, but not I. Of course I would rather be at home, but it is no use to think that. There is so much noise in camp that a fellow can’t think to write, so I’ll stop now. Direct your letters to me at Washington D. C., 16th Maine Volunteers, Co. G.”

In December, Wilson wrote again to Sarah.

“I got your letter, and I wish you a happy New Year when it comes. I would like to be at home and have a sleigh ride. Go and see Ellard as often as you can. I just heard good news – Burnside is giving the Rebels fits. We shall leave here soon, but I can’t tell you where. Tell Mother I will send her some money when I am paid off.”

Another letter in the fall of 1862 told Sarah: “Yesterday we had to march two miles so Old Abe and Gen. Abel could review us. Then, when I got back, it was my bad luck to have to stand guard. Our living is not exactly first rate. We have plenty of maggoty pork and beef, and a lot of wormy bread. About 300 of the regiment are sick, but I am still rugged. Tell Horace he had better stay at home if he is not drafted, for he is just not tough enough to stand this show. It is not play, I can tell you, to march all day, sweat your clothes through, then camp on the ground with only a thin, rubber blanket over you. Now about the colt. If you can get $25 for him, by all means, sell him. Tell Mother not to let the boys drive the mare too much on the road. It’s enough for the mare just to do the farm work.

In another letter, Wilson told Sarah he was glad to hear that the colt had been sold. He said, “I don’t know where we shall end up, but we are on the way to Richmond. It is hard to get paper and stamps here. Send me some of both.”

As soon as the 16th Maine got into camp in Virginia, Wilson’s letters were enclosed in the same kind of war envelopes that many homes received during the Rebellion. In the upper left corner is a picture of Union troops going into battle, and under it the words r~ar for the Union.

In December Wilson wrote another letter to Sarah in which he enclosed a separate letter to his brother Edwin. To Edwin he said: “I was glad to hear that you are cutting your wood. You must haul it up before the snow gets deep. You said you were going to school. Who keeps it this winter? Let me know how many bushels of corn, potatoes, barley and apples you raised this year. How much land did you break up this fall? Take good care of the mare. Don’t let her get poor. Be a good boy and mind mother.”

The letter to Sarah in the same envelope said: “We are having better fare than we had a while ago. We are going to move before long, but whether for a better or worse place I don’t know. We are in a cold hole now with snow two inches deep. It is so cold my hand can hardly hold the pen. Three of the regiment have died within two weeks. One was our neighbor in Larone, Thomas Sawyer. I was one of eight who fired the volley over his grave. It may be my turn next. Life is uncertain, but we have to take it as it comes. I suppose you had a big Thanksgiving dinner. I had some hard bread and sweetened water. I wish I could have had a good mince pie.”

Then, just after New Years in 1863, Sarah got a sad letter from the other brother Nathaniel. Wilson had been wounded in battle and, in a Washington hospital, both his arms had been amputated. Nathaniel said: “I have heard as bad news as I ever received. Wilson has lost both his arms. I was lying in my bunk when I heard of it. If he was where I could see him, I would go at once. But here I am in camp in East New York, and he is in Washington, and I can’t get leave. I thought Sam was going into the woods this winter. I never liked the way he worked with Ellard last year, but I didn’t say anything. I don’t want to start a fuss. I hope it is the Lord’s will that I shall return home and take care of Ellard myself. Let me know what you hear from Wilson. ”

Early in February Sarah received a letter dictated by Wilson in the hospital and written by an aide. Wilson said: “I am getting better. I feel the best I have felt since my arms were amputated. The doctor says I will be able to go home in a few weeks. I have one consolation – they can never make me a soldier again. Don’t blame the young man who writes for me for not writing oftener. He has many others to write for. I get very good care and have everything I want.

A week later Sarah got a letter from the wardmaster in the hospital. “Your brother has asked me to write you. He is getting along as well as can be expected. He is in the best of spirits, always talking and joking. I assure you that before many weeks he will be able to return home. He is one of my best patients.”

Then, after another week, Wilson dictated a letter to his Mother in Larone .. “I think I am improving although I am not able to sit up yet. You mentioned some money you had received. You may do as you see fit with it. Perhaps you might put it out to interest, but do as you like. Give my love to all inquiring friends.”

Wilson Brown never got back to his Fairfield home. Before the end of February in 1863 he had died, and it was from James N. Hyde, medical cadet in the Union Army, that Sarah received a letter dated in Washington on March 1, 1863. “Dear Miss Brown: Your brother was in my care during the last six weeks of his illness, and at last I find time to write you, as I have intended to do since he passed away.

“I have never felt such sympathy and pity for a poor, wounded soldier, since I have been in the Army as I did for Wilson Brown. Yet I have seen hundreds die on the field and in hospital without the comforts he enjoyed. His endurance and heroic fortitude should make his family very proud in their sorrow.

“As you know, both his arms were amputated. He was doing well and could sit up and walk around slowly. I dressed his arms for weeks and was pleased to see how well they healed. Then suddenly he was prostrated and could not leave the bed. Abscesses had formed on his back and they had to be opened. They extended so deeply that twice I had to tie severed arteries. He endured it all without a groan. He never complained. But his back grew worse, wasting all his strength. The morning before he died he had a convulsion. I stood beside him, trying in vain to quiet him. Once he murmured, “Am I almost home?”

“Brave soldier – not near the home he had left to fight for his country, but near to that which his Heavenly Father had provided. I have probably seen more of the war, of soldiers, of death, of sickness and suffering than you have, but I have not had your honor of losing a brother who sacrificed his life so manfully. He has now been blessed with a higher award.”

And that is the last in this preserved collection of Civil War letters that came to a family in the little hamlet at Larone.

Year: 1972