It is July 16, 1863.
John Crawford is writing to his wife, Martha,
from a Confederate hospital in Winchester, Virginia,
where he is recovering from an illness contracted during the
Confederate retreat from Gettysburg.

John grew up in central Mississippi
amid large cotton plantations worked by enslaved labor
and small family farms.

He enlisted in the 16th Mississippi Infantry,
a part of Confederate General Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia,
six months ago.

[The grammatical and spelling errors in the letter are John’s.]
“Dear wife
I seat my self down to let you know that I am not well at present
but I hope those few lines will find you and family well.
I taken the fever in a few days after the gettysburg fight.

wee left about dark an march all night.
the mud an water was almost needeep
an then wee stop the nesct day and ladown in the water
and I taken the fever and was sent to wincheser.
but I hope it waunt last long.
the hardship wee have to go threw is enough to kill a mud turple.

I don’t know any thing about the ridgement at this time.
they have had a nother battle since I left them but I don’t how they made it.
I cant hear from them.
news reach hear that vicksburg has gon up the spout.
if it has wee had just as well quit and give up the confedracy

I don’t know that I have any thing more of any importance to write.
I have no idy the war will end in the next five year to come.
direct you letters to richmond wee can get them beter from ther
than any wher else.

I don’t know wher you can read this or not.
I am so week my hands trembles so bad so I will close by saing
I remain your loving husband untel death.
fare well for this time”
***
In ten more months, John will be killed in action, leaving Martha and four children behind.
A poem he had written to Martha in April:
“how long sometimes a day appears
and weeks how long are they
months moves along as if the years
would never pass away”
I’ll see you tomorrow.
— Brenda
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