January 23rd 1863 [Friday]. Camp, near Falmouth, Va.
My Dear Father:
I haven’t received a letter from you for at least two weeks and I’m sure I have written at least three.
Four days ago the Army moved. But the day after, it rained so hard that the trains and artillery were stuck in the mud so that they could not move and are in the same predicament yet.
The last I heard of Sykes’s Division was that they were trying to get back to their old camp and were building corduroy roads on which to move the trains, but this, as you know, is slow work.
We did not move our camp but staid, intending to accompany as guard, General Hooker’s train. He is coming back and, I suppose, every thing will become quiet as ever in a few days.
Our camp is very close to the Rail Road and we get almost everything we want for the Mess direct from Washington through the caterer of General Hooker’s Mess, who goes regularly back and forth twice per week.
You need not send to me either the Postage stamps or the money that I wrote for as in the first place the story that I heard about the Officer losing my pay etc. on cards is happily an untruth or rather an —-. I hardly know what to call it, but it pleases me very well, and as to Postage stamps, there is a kind of book stall or store at the Depot, so I can supply myself when I need any.
The weather here is quite warm, but very wet and muddy.
I wish you would write oftener and tell me everything that takes place.
That check I sent you, you had better get it cashed pretty soon, as they become good for nothing after being issued a certain time.
What are the Meredith boys going to do now?
Did you tell me that Isaac was maimed or not? If you didn’t, I must have dreamed it.
What are Billy & Jimmy Reynolds doing? And where is David Lofland?
Give my love to all, Your son, W. J. Fisher
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