June 21st 1862 [Saturday]. Camp Lovell, Virginia.
My Dear Father:
I haven’t received a letter from you for I don’t remember how long. But having nothing else to occupy my valuable (?) time, I will write a letter home. If you don’t get letters from me it’s not my fault. For I think I have written once about every three or four days since first moving into this camp. I believe that you write only when you received a letter from me, but when you don’t receive any from me, be sure and write every three or four days at least.
Yesterday the enemy threw three shells into our camp. Killing one man or at least wounding him so badly that he died within one half hour after he was struck. The shells fell, all three of them, within less than one hundred yards of our camp.
It’s reported that we will, in a few days, move to the front or as far at least as General McClellan’s head quarters where as one of General Sykes’s aids said we were going into a miserable, wet, swampy, unhealthy camp. If we do move but I hope we will not, we will probably be in our next camp at least three weeks to a month.
General McClellan is having his siege train brought to the front. It has been reported here for a week or two that we are going to be sent there. In my opinion we haven’t the numbers of troops that will justify an attack by our forces unprotected by siege guns on the Rebel hordes that are not encamped between here and Richmond.
Our camp is named after Major Charles S. Lovell, the commander of our Battalion. He enlisted in 1823. Served out his enlistment, returned home and went into business in Boston six months after his commission as 2nd Lieutenant was sent to him without being asked for. He has, by regular formation, risen to his present rank, Senior Major in the 10th Infantry. He was a Captain by brevet in the Mexican war and received another brevet in Service of his numerous Indian fights.
Of our other officers, we have three brigadier generals, eight colonels, and one acting commander in the Navy on the Mississippi. His name is Henry A. Maynadier, Captain 10th Infantry. We have two Cols. of Volunteers with Butler in New Orleans. Col. W. A. M. Dudley, who is a captain in our Regiment, and Col C. P. Gooding, who is fist Lt. of my company.
We have, I think, one of the largest according to height, one of the smallest officers in the U.S. Army. One, a 2nd Lieutenant by the name of Welles from Connecticut, a nephew of the Secretary of the Navy, is six feet two inches and a half in height. The other is one of the smallest specimens of humanity that I have every seen.
The tent that I stay in is a Sibeley. Since coming in camp, I have had a cot built of four crotches driven in the ground with two poles put in there length wise and boards laid on them. I have two blankets with me and a gutta percha blanket to go on that. Then I have two woolen blankets to go over me so I’m very comfortably situated.
I have nothing else at present to write so I’ll close. Please write soon…write every two or three days. Give my love to all the family.
If you see Uncle John’s boys tell them that I am expecting a letter from each of them any day. Tell Fred, if he is old enough and can pass the examination, to try for West Point and not make application through any Representative or Senator but to try for an appointment at large. That is to make application to the President direct by a beautifully written letter to the President writing of course by some experienced hand and I think he stands one chance out of three to get it. If he does this, pay will be thirty dollars per month and every thing found to a boot black.
Your affectionate son, W. J. Fisher
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