One Last Bitter Mile

A letter from a soldier to his wife

April 5, 1865

Near Sayler’s Creek Virginia

 

My Own Dear Edith,

 

How I have missed you these many months! My visit with you last year was of the most enjoyable kind and yet regrettably brief.

 

Please forgive the fact that many weeks have passed since I last penned you a note. A full moon rains its glow an unlikely cascade on me as I write and my hand shivers from the cold. We have allowed ourselves no fire, as we fear commencing one would draw the unwelcome notice of enemy sentries, who, even as mere sharpshooters are just a short distance from our lines. We can hear their revelry clearly, which is exaggerated I am sure for the sole purpose of distracting and demoralizing us in our present disadvantage. Many from our side have fled to the enemy’s lines, fearing famine and cold more abundantly than a possible firing squad for deserting our diminished army. The enemy would gladly deny us any trappings of comfort whatsoever. A force ten times our number harries in and upon us. I believe I hate them as much as a Christian man ought.

 

As for your poor husband generally, at present I have no bacon, and cannot spare even one ball or pack in which to shoot game for my supper. You would think me a most bitter fool for my appearance. I confess, and would scarce recognize your old man should he present himself at your door. I fear that on not being able to do so, you might find another man in which to share your most intimate confidences; perhaps one more fitting a handsome woman such as you are. No doubt you find these words the sentiments of a madman awash in self-pity, but I am a wretched sight, accept my oath on it.

 

The only bath I can even recall must have taken place sometime before the Christmas season, with your devoted One choking with cold in an ice-clogged creek, half-naked with the leavings of a bar of lye in his eyes; a miserable sight in any weathers. Put the image I have described here out of your mind, I beg you.

 

The men themselves are in rags and half-starved, their eyes hollowed out by the carnage they’ve seen, the echoes of the cries of the maimed and bravely fallen draining their spirits and tormenting their minds. The miles also have not, indeed cannot, satisfy the enemy’s lust for every ounce of sacred blood we may yet offer. They are animals and vampiric, all of them. I pray for some relief for the men and myself.

 

I watched in particular grief today as the General laid aside his maps, and realized that in doing so, he demonstrated his belief that everything is lost. And all the trials and dusty miles crossed of this current campaign cannot begin to describe the grumblings of my soul, wishing the presence of you and the children, and all the while fighting with the insane and rabid vanity of a patriot for a cause that no one of us truly believes in any longer.

 

But having set his ledgers aside, the General quietly handed me a note addressed to my person, and excused himself from my tent just as quickly. Allow me to share a portion with you. To wit:

  

“My dear Colonel Brooks

 

Sir,

 

“Over the years, you have walked many a bitter road with me, and responded with a devout and splendid courage when I required valor from you exclusively amongst my staff. You charged across insatiable fields, as Duty Herself pushed and cajoled you along, driving your meager forces against impossible odds, and with an uncommon ability to summon energies you didn’t yourself have.

 

Yet I call on you Sir, for one final battle, one last bitter mile of pain and fear to cross. And when our weapons have given their last report, then I declare that as Providence deigns necessary and proper, perhaps we may fall in a field of tall grass and sup with the angels, in that glorious Place of everlasting bliss, where there are no more conflicts and no more tears, awaiting those both close and beloved.” --

 

My eyes fill with tears at these written remarks as the General has never been one for words, eloquent or otherwise.

   

I concur with the General’s thoughts on this battle, as in all its chilly sentiment to cross, I too testify that this will be the last one, to the glory of God. For my dear Edith, I die daily, but I have not yet known dying like this. I’d bid tomorrow to wait an epoch, but once it passes I may have a chance of seeing you again, my heart and soul.

 

I long to be with you my dear, either in this present world or in the glorious hereafter, and in the cherished enjoyment of a better time. Kindly shower upon the children a thousand kisses from their beloved Papa, and mind that you leave town shortly, before the fever arrives.

 

Your Loving,

John

___________________________________

 

Colonel John Brooks was killed the next day at the Battle of Sayler's Creek by a Union picket. His wife never received this note.

Reviews

[cartera]

A wonderful piece of writing. A very sad story that could so easily have fallen into maudlin sentimentality. The reserved tone was correct for the protagonist and the period and was maintained throughout.
A writer in charge of his material who knows extremely well how to use the tools. Superb.
Excellent entertainment also as a feast for the historical imagination. Well well done.
ATB
alex.

[Tom Benson]

Having experienced war and all it's trappings, albeit a modern one I felt a certain empathy for the characters so well portrayed here. There is always a fight within, even when all around seems hopeless. It's what makes a soldier a soldier.

[Hank]

Thanks for the comments and suggestions folks. I very much appreciate them.

[Emily B]

they’re eyes should be their eyes

and then, vampiric, is a weird word to find in a civil war letter

otherwise, your rhetoric is very near the many letters from soldiers I have read

[Sunni Davis]

Such a bittersweet story. I'm a big history fan so I love the historical aspects of this. The emotions were clear and strong; The ending lines made me cry. Very well written.

[emmajoy]

A heartbreaking piece of writing, very much to history and its style of language. I've tried to find a sentence that stands out in my mind but the entire piece rings of that time's wretchedness, but, finally, 'decided on the following which would be applicable at any time of war, ' .. perhaps we may fall in a field of tall grass and sup with the angels, in that glorious Place of everlasting bliss, where there are no more conflicts and no more tears, awaiting those both close .. '