LI.

My Beloved Amelia, 

I pray this letter finds you.  I've not heard from you in several weeks.  I confess my heart is filled with even greater longing for you. I did not think that was possible.  It feels like everything around me has grown empty, and grows emptier still.  There is nothing to fill the void but my desire to see you again.  Your face. Your breathe. Your touch. You fill my dreams, and light the pathway towards a last hope. Oh God what I would give to see you again! 

And so it pains me terribly that I've not received a letter from you.  I suspect the postal service must be at fault.  The other officers say they've not heard from their sweethearts in weeks either.  There is Yankee cavalry raiding deep behind our lines, and I'm sure the Yankee occupation has not helped. I knew you said that if things got bad that you would stay with your step mother in Athens. I will write to her and pray that I might find you there if that is where you have fled to. I pray the Yankees will let the letter through.  

The rains have stopped here in Virginia. We heard that General Ulysses Grant has taken command of the Yankee army. He know he is a very aggressive commander - a real fighter.  General Lee, however, has always been the Old Grey Fox. Most of the men are all sure that General Lee will give Grant a good whipping with some hard fighting.  That may be so, but I'm not sure there will be anyone left to kill the last Yankee. There are too many of them.  They are of all nationalities.  Many don't even speak English, and even less speak the King's English. We've captured so many Irish and Germans that you'd think we were fighting in the Old World.  All we have are the blacks, who just dig ditches and flee our lines every chance they get to escape bondage. I can't say I blame them. Most of us who've never owned slaves wonder why we don't give them guns to fight in exchange for freedom. We're just told that the government will never give a n****r a gun they could just turn on us whites. 

It just sounds like fighting with a greater fear at your back than what you face to your front.  The Fire Eaters and slaveowners are more terrified of freed blacks than they are of losing the war! God forbid if you talk about giving them guns to fight for their freedom. Our leaders are terrified of arming the blacks.  I've even heard General Cleburne, who is about the only hero we know of out West, has been reprimanded by Jeff Davis for even suggesting this.  How do these rich slaveowning politicians expect us to win this war they got us into?  Of course, most of them are not the ones fighting it.  Certainly not in the Nickajack.  Those who were committed to the Cause who came with us to Virginia are all dead. Most fell at Sharpsburg. It seems like everyone left from the old regiment are losing hope.  I'm losing hope.  We get replacements to fill in those who were lost.  Nobody wants to grow familiar with them.  I try to get them fitted into the company as best I can, but there is a deep rotting of hope among the older grumblers.  

I hope, however, that is changing for the better, and not to soon.  The roads are drying and we're expecting General Grant to attack any day now.  Everyone has been taut and on edge.  But this past month we received several draftees from the Nickajack, several of them musicians from Athens. I'll be damned if these boys weren't piss poor soldiers to start with, but they've really warmed up to the old grumblers with their music. The regiment itself hasn't had a full string band since before Sharpsburg. Even now I can hear them outside the tent playing a tune - Star of County Down. They call themselves the Hine Streeters.  They've got fifes, drums, mandolins, guitars, fiddles, banjos... one of them even has a hurdy gurdy.  They really are a remarkable bunch, and I confess I feel deeply saddened that they are about to go into combat.  I wonder if that spark, that lightness of spirit that accompanies their music will still be there after the day of battle.  They've raised our spirits for certain, and not just F Company, but the whole 4th Alabama.  The colonel has said the Hine Streeters will be given the honor of leading us into battle with their fifes and drums.  As foolish as it sounds for men to face death in such way, it shall be glorious for the boys if we triumph.  

The men are bedding down for the night, and the fires are growing dim.  Lights will be out soon.

I feel like I could write to you forever, and may the dawn never come.  It is the magic hour when I finish my each letter to you, and I blow out the candle, and pray for courage and that God keep you well, and I feel for briefest moment that all is well, everywhere and for all time. God I pray this letter will find you.  If it does not, I will write again. I will also make my inquiries to your step mother, Bright Marin, in Athens.  Be safe, and pray to await my coming home when this war shall be over.  I suspect the climax is nigh.  

Yours Eternally Devoted,

Noah Amherst, Cpt. CSA

F Company, 4th Alabama Infantry Regiment

May 3, 1864