CORINTH INFORMATION DATABASE Version 1.3 © 1995 Milton Sandy, Jr.

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      Camp Clear Creek, near Corinth, Miss.
                                August 1, 1862


     Here, in temporary cessation of hostilities, which the heat of
the weather renders imperative on both sides, Rosecrans' division of
Halleck's late grand army is regularly cantoned at various points on
the line of the Mobile and Ohio Railroad. We have commenced a thorough
course of drill and instruction, doubtless -- if no unforeseen
circumstances transpire, to continue through the remainder of the
summer, so that when we again push forward our dauntless front to
Dixie, we shall come forth better drilled, perfectly climatized, and
numerically, as large, if not, larger than ever.

     We rest at present in undisturbed quietude. No marches, scouts,
reconnaissances, etc., diversify the monotony of camp life. And the
whole season of "masterly inactivity" is spent in viewing the slow
progress of the powers that be toward the suppression of this unholy
rebellion. It does not become me in my present position to criticize
the action of my superiors, yet I am not alone in the opinion that
much valuable time has been wasted, and many valuable lives sacrificed
in these parts, without effecting what might have been done had the
proper course been pursued.

     On the creek from which our camp derives its name, is encamped
the Ohio brigade, consisting of the 27th, 39th, 43rd and 63rd Ohio
regiments. Our Brigadier is General Dan. Tyler, of Connecticut. He is
at present home on leave; in his absence, Colonel [John W.] Fuller, of
the 27th, commands.

     General [David S.] Stanley, of New York, commands our division.
General Stanley is a regular army officer, and from his untiring
energies and assiduous attention to the wants of his command, justly
receives the commendation and love of all.

     Many of the officers connected with this army are New Yorkers,
and a large number are co-religionists. Two or three of our most
prominent Colonels claim the latter honor, while line officers of our
faith abound.

     Yesterday was an eventful day in camp, a kind of anniversary day
among those of our officers and men who were with us at the first
muster and organization of our regiment. A year has rolled away since
that day, and we are still in the field, -- a year more pregnant with
interest to our nation than any other in its whole history -- a year,
upon each day of which, a whole volume might be written; but as this
is no time for moralizing, I pass it by. Why muse on the past! The
memory of the past year, though mingled with the earth's deepest
sorrows, will be pleasant, and in other days to come, will form the
fitting theme of poet, statesman and patriot.

     Could you have been in camp last night, (I write of that of my
own regiment), you would have seen several squads of soldiers grouped
together on the grass beneath the bright starlight of these Southern
skies, busily engaged in relating their experiences of the past. At
times, they were merry and seemed to enjoy various recollections of
the past year, again a shade of sorrow would flit across their
countenances as they spoke of the absent dead, for many have fallen,
and are to day classed among "America's storied brave," and then, when
their thoughts would revert to "home," -- "Home, home, sweet home,"
then would seriousness pervade the circle, their conversation would
become more hushed, a sense of loneliness, of being far from mother,
wife, sister, or daughter, or that dearly loved one, would cause a
deep drawn sigh to escape their manly bosoms, and the sounding of
"Tattoo" would be a relief that is better imagined than described.
"Roll call" would follow, one by one these sterling patriots would
retire to their canvas habitations, and in another hour all were wrapt
in peaceful slumber, and no sound was to be heard in camp, but the
occasional "who goes there?" of some vigilant sentinel patrolling his

     Such is our military life; day after day passes by, the events of
one being but a repetition of the other. I have made this more lengthy
than I expected; hoping I am not intruding on your space, with this,
my initial letter to you, I will say, au revoir.


Source: Bryan Boyle's Bronx Bulletin Board


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