Battery Anderson, Virginia
January 7th 1865
I will now try and pen you a few lines to let you know that I am well and trying to think of you and wishing you well and happy. I have not much news to write but will give you such as I have.
Last week we had two men shot—one a private; the other a sergeant. The private was shot for deserting and the sergeant for helping him to get away. They were shot right in sight of our company. I didn’t go to see them for I was on detail at the time but most of our company went to see it. Five of our company is to start for Wilmington tomorrow and I don’t think that we shall stay here but a few days at most for I think that we shall either go to the front of Petersburg or Richmond soon.
We are to have to school a week now so I will have my hands full of books and my head full of nonsense, but then it is a good thing to be posted in matters and things—especially if one expects to spend a lifetime in the army as I do. But I expect that they will break me after I go to school once or twice and tell them I don’t know when they ask me a question. We are to study infantry tactics so I suppose we shall go as infantry soon but I hope not. I have been to look at some of the camps today and I find that no soldiers can boast of the comforts that we can, and I can say truly that I feel grateful for such a blessing for we are at home when compared with some of these poor fellows out here.
I hope, pet, that you are happy and can get along until I get paid off. We hope to get paid about the 20th of this month. I hope that we shall. Not that I need it, but for your sake, for I know that you are in want of money. I will send you a piece of poetry in this for I liked it and for that reason I know that you will like it. And pet, I want you to have your picture taken for me soon as I can send you some money for you must have changed in looks some by this time and I want to know how you do look. Everyone thinks I am lucky for when they see your picture, they say that I have a very pretty little wife and wish theirs was like you—and they say they will bet that you won’t scold at me much and I tell them that you are a little cross patch but don’t get vain, for a few only have seen it for I don’t make a public display of it for I don’t like men to talk too free on that that don’t concern them. But I can say for myself that I am well pleased with my little wife and that I still love my pet with all my heart and I fear sometimes that I love you too well for my own good for I neglect my duty to think of you.
Give my love to Mother and the girls and my respects to Uncle Potter and his folks. write soon, Pet, for I am anxious to hear from you, my love. Good night.
As ever your loving husband, — C. A. Chapman