October 2, 1862

October 2, 1862

Dear parents:

In my last I wrote you of our arrival at Fort Snelling and that we were to march into the Indian Country in a day or two. Fort Snelling is a fine place and I hadn't got tired of it when orders came to divide our Regiment, the right wing to go up the Minnesota river and the left wing up the Mississippi. Our Co. is in the left wing so we came up the Mississippi river. The first night after quitting Ft. Snelling we camped in the edge of Minneapolis, a pretty town at the Falls of St. Anthony. St. Anthony, just across the river, has some nice big buildings and is the biggest place. It was awfully hot the day we left the fort and our extra blankets and belts full of amunition made a load. But we felt good and after supper I scuffled with Casper Meuli and Max Brill till bed time. I know father advised me not to do any wrestling, but a fellow can't say no all the time. A lot of us rolled up in our blankets under the trees on the bank of a creek with no tents that night. A lot of women or girls from town came into camp and walked over us as if we were logs. I thot they were pretty fresh. Some of the older
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soldiers talked pretty plain to them but they didn't seem to care. After while they were ordered away and then we went to sleep. The next night and the night after I slept in barns on the hay. The people seemed to be Germans but they were good and gave us all they had of milk and bread. The boys would gather like pigs round a milk pan, three or four drinking at the same time. We came into St. Cloud last night. We crossed the Mississippi here. It isn't the mighty stream here that it is at Alma, I could throw a stone across and hit a dog up here. These people gave us a warm welcome. Some of our boys came down with the measles and will go into hospital quarters until they get well. I have a queer sort of feeling, perhaps its measles with me. You know I never was sick. When the surgeon examined me in La Crosse he hit me a slap and told me I had a constitution like a horse I told him my living for some years had been buck meat, beaver's tails and bear flesh. He said, you are a tough one, that is plain to see. I am sitting on a big rock on the bank of the Mississippi. It seems strange that this clear beautiful stream is the same yellow broad river that runs so near my home. As I write I am using a fine tooth comb and I am finding bugs. I don't know where I got them, but I've got them. I was ashamed to be seen combing in camp so I came down behind the big rocks by the river. The other boys must have them. No Indians yet. The old settlers tell us tht buffalos were here but a few years ago. I have seen some of their horns, sharp, black wicked things. Their trails can be seen on the praries and along the river banks. I remember father saying the buffaloes and Indians would disappear about the same time. Pot hunters would slay the buffaloes for their skins, and the white man's whiskey was as surely slaying the Indian. Tomorrow we take up our march to Richmond, twenty miles away. I will write you then.

Your son

CHAUNCEY.

P. S. Tell father not to brag so much on Webster as a speller. I know I am not in his class quite, but I have bought me a pocket dictionary and I am studying it every day. Our Chaplain came along last night and saw me with it. He stopped and looked at it; well, he said it is next thing to a testament anyhow.

Good bye.