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Civil War Letters of the Christie Family

Author: Thomas D. Christie
Date: October 27, 1862
Location: Corinth, Mississippi
Addressee: James C. Christie
Description: Thomas complains of the unusually cold weather and describes the unit's impending reassignment.

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Corinth Miss. Oct. 27th 1862

My Dear Father,

Yours of the 30th Sept. and 22nd Oct. came to hand yesterday, but, as I was on Guard and W. wrote immediately I put off answering untill [sic] today.

I am glad that the wheat turned out as well as it did, I am sure I would hardly have thought that you and the Boys could have brought the year's labors to a close so successfully as you have. Sandy and Dave must be true heroes in the use of the Cradle and Plough. Apropos of S. why don't he write, I have had nothing from him for so long that I will soon forget his handwriting. And Mother also, let me hear from her, if only to send her love and say she is well. As to our health, we are rugged as Grizzlies and don't spare the Grub. Lighthearted and do our Duty cheerfully. Don't fret on our account. Be sure we will adapt ourselves to any circumstances that befall us, think of us as happy and contented, and making the best of everything. I hope that Sarah has gone back to her studies and that she will not leave them again on any such occasion.

Miracle of Miracles!!

Did you ever hear the like? Hard frost and Snow in Massysypy [sic] in October, Disparage the Selkirk Settlement indeed, why, we wear more clothes here now than we would at St. Paul and feel shivery all over nevertheless. It seems as if Dame Nature, to recompense us for not going to Minnesota this fall, has done the next best thing and kindly brought Minnesota down to us. But I notice that even those who were most clamorous for our change of Latitude do not thank her for it, and seem to prefer the natural climate of the Sonny [sic] South to the frigid anomaly that we witness now. I suppose that William has told you all about our doings for the past month, and anyhow I am too lazy to particularize.

The Company has been reorganized partly since the Battle by capt. Munch, and our squad, having no Sergt., has been divided up. Some go in one platoon and some in another. William and I are transferred with the most of the Squad on to the Left howitzer, he in his old position as wheel driver on the gun and I am No. 4 in the Gun Detachment.

This howitzer is the one that broke its axle by recoil, was dragged by the prolonge rope untill [sic] it broke, and was then spiked and thrown into a creek, and recovered after the Battle, sent to Battery Williams and we never found it untill [sic] today although we applied at every headquarters in town. It is now repairing at the Machine Shop and we will get it in a day or two.

I must acquaint you with the fact that I have a new Correspondent. Her name is Minnie B. Southwick, the sister of one of my best Comrades, and she resides in Connecticut. She writes beautiful letters, and seems to be of the right old Puritan stamp as her brother is, only he is sharpened considerably by several years residence in the west.

You need not say anything of this to either of the girls, for, although there is no harm in it, they might quiz me considerable. But just do as you like about it. I will send you one of her letters with this, if you will return it, just to let you see her style.

After your Summer's work now, you will have a chance to take it easy this winter, whereas our work is yet to begin, for we have done nothing this Summer and have got quite a big stint to do including grubbing up Vicksburg and threshing out Mobile. We expect to be in McClermand's command who you know has this work to do. Major Hinkelooper has been ordered to report at Bolivar and it is thought that our Division will move soon in that or some other direction. However, we can not tell everything about it, and so “possess your minds in peace,” for we will let you know immediately if we move. And remember to write often, for I feel 20 perct. better since your kind letters came. It is very cold, and all the rest of the boys are in their blankets, so I must say Good night and blow out the candle.

Ever yours, T. D. Christie

I write to Fox Lake tomorrow

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