This letter was written by 25 year-old Manius Buchanan (1835-1914) who enlisted on 28 August 1861 at LaPorte, Indiana, to serve in Co. B, 29th Indiana Volunteers. He was discharged for disability on 5 September 1862. He later reenlisted on 10 July 1863 as captain of Co. F, 118th Indiana Infantry and remained with his company until 24 January 1865.
Manius was the son of David Buchanan (1800-1874) and Lydia Tribbey (1802-1885) of Monroe, Holmes county, Ohio (in 1850), and Fairfield, DeKalb county, Indiana (in 1860).
Manius wrote the letter to his cousin, Emma W. Childs (b. 1843), whom he married on 4 August 1864. He later married Anna Bell (1840-1923) and moved to Oregon where he farmed and found some work as a surveyor.
Letter 1
Camp Nevin, Kentucky [9 miles below Elizabethtown]
October 16, 1861
Cousin Em,
I received your last everal days ago but between marching and other duties, I have not had time to answer it until the present time. I am always glad to receive letters from old friends but they [are] particularly welcome at this time. John R. [Buchanan] and Calvin [Marshall] have not come up yet. I have not heard from them since we left them. Absalom Row is sick today. I do not know what is the matter. The rest are all well. I have never enjoyed better health than since I enlisted. I have gained just fifteen pounds in weight.
John [M.] Stonebraker is getting wilder every day and enjoys himself hugely. I believe nothing can change “yours.” He is always the same—harem scarem—good for nothing except grace.
This army encamped in the very heart of a secession neighborhood, but now it is transformed in a Union one.
October 17th. I could not write any more yesterday. I will finish today. I have just learned that John is writing some too. With the very best chance to gain information, I cannot ascertain our own strength. A soldier sees little and knows less. Neither is the regimental officers better informed than the privates. I suppose we are about 15,000; I suppose there is some artillery [though] I have not seen it nor have I seen anyone who has been nor [ ky]. There is cavalry but no one knows how much.
I succeeded in gaining a great secret, true, I know that when we first came into camp an attack was expected daily but it seems our enemies have only their own safety at heart. They blowed up a bridge a few days ago about twenty miles south of this across Green river which cost $180,000, all to prevent our advance. I think they will find we are not so easily stopped. An advance, no doubt, will be made as soon as our army equipments are in readiness.
Since in camp, we get to see no stoves for they are not allowed inside our pickets. Our skirmishing has nearly ceased. There has been no shooting for two days. As I and another stood guard last night, we saw a stranger skulking around the stable, but he went off no better than he came. I go on picket tomorrow. I hope for fire.
The rumor prevails here and is generally believed that we are soon to have peace. God forbid we should have peace except by the entire submission of the traitors. How would these mighty armies feel going home having accomplished nothing. Our officers cannot take us home until every Rebel submits. The Rebels are as usual doing all the damage they possibly can to property as they retreat. We build up as we advance. We have built up and passed two bridges. 250 men are at work on one near our camp, and then come the one across Green river which we will have to rebuild at present.
I intend to write to father in a few days. Then you may expect something else. We may leave this place. Absalom Row was very sick last night but is better today. Do not tell of his sickness. Direct to Louisville, Kentucky, Care of Capt. [Horatio G. P.] Oblinger, Co. B, 29th Reg. Indiana Vols.
Write soon and give me some news. Ever your friend, — M. Buchanan
Excuse me. I cannot pay postage here.
to Em W. Childs
[Editor’s Note: Though the first part of the following letter is missing, I believe it was written not long after the Battle of Shiloh in which the 29th Indiana Infantry participated on the 2nd day. It would have been their first major battle.]
Letter 2
[First part of letter missing, probably mid-April 1862]
…I will now answer your letter to Jacob. I do not think it very good taste in you to be bragging of sweet living while your soldier friends are performing wearisome marches, living on hard crackers and fat pork, sleeping on the damp ground without tents, suffering every conceivable deprivation; we were two weeks without tents and rainy weather at [the] very time you were writing. Jake will hardly stand to have his picture taken for you for some time to come.
I think there is now some prospect of our getting home before very long—I mean within three months. I care not how soon now I would enter another battle as I did this entirely reckless of danger, but I do hope never to be called upon to witness another such a scene of wholesale bloodshed and slaughter.
When our first wounded boy (wounded in the ankle) hobbled away, we all laughed. Do not wonder that was what we were there for. The soldier that walked just in front of me in the rear rank received a ball and fell. I stepped over him and never saw him again. But I must not stop to describe battle scenes. They are not fit subjects to write about.
I find a plenty of old acquaintances here from both Holmes and DeKalb Co.’s. Tell Wanda [that] Washington Kran paid me a visit today; also her relative Lieut. Brady yesterday. I must close. Write and direct as before.
Your friend, — M. Buchanan
Private
“When I look back and see or feel again the passing of the cannon ball that took off my cap in its passage and struck a tree just beyond, tearing right through it, then I think how near we were being separated forever.”
I have received three letters from you since I last wrote. I will not stop to give you my excuses now, only I have been sick. I think the time is fast approaching when we will not have to wait on the slow pen to talk, but when heart may speak to heart and eye to eye, and meet a ready response; and O! how I long for it—especially since the battle. When I look back and see or feel again the passing of the cannon ball that took off my cap in its passage and struck a tree just beyond, tearing right through it, then I think how near we were being separated forever.
I had no fear of safety and it was as I expected it to be—too reckless of life, but I wish to live to get back home again if only to feel the pressure of your hand on my brow and love’s kiss on my cheek. You spoke of something between I and mother [ ] and I will tell you all.
We are expecting another battle near here but you must not think after what I have said that I will enter it reluctantly—not in the least. I will go in more careless than before; do not fear for me. I am coming home untouched.
I have not time to write more ay present. I will write soon again.
Your soldier boy, — Manius Buchanan, Sergt. 29th I. V.
Spared & Shared 22 