Bivouac near Stanford, Kentucky
May 1st 1863

My dear Father and Mother,

Yesterday morning our brigade had marching orders. We started at half past seven o’clock and marched until an hour before sunset. It was an awful hot day and many were nearly sun struck. One man in our company was struck blind owing to the great heat of the sun and he cannot open his eyes this morning.

We halted at noon for one hour and made coffee. This refreshed us considerably and helped us through the remainder of the march. We made twenty miles in all and most of us came in considerably lighter than when we started. I, for one, thew away my overcoat, two pairs of drawers, a pair of mittens, about half of that paper you sent me, and twenty rounds of extra cartridges, besides a box with a pound of (melted) butter in it. In fact, I threw away all that I could possibly spare for I was bound to keep up if possible and I did so though I came the last eight miles with only one shoe on. My right foot, having got blistered so badly in the first part of the march, that I had to take off my shoe and travel in my stocking. I bathed my feet and legs in a brook as soon as I got here which considerably decreased the swelling but I find myself this morning with three large blisters on the top of my right foot and a large one on the ball of my “big” toe. It comes rather tough to get used up the first day.

The 27th Michigan—the new regiment in our brigade—started with us but had to stop the other side of the town for the night and when they came in this morning, they couldn’t number five hundred men because about that number fell out. T’was hard marching for new troops.

We only passed through one town before we reached Stanford and that was Lancaster—a very pretty little place—but the two towns put together would not be half as big as Clinton.

Yesterday was the day for us to be mustered for two months pay and I understand that we are to stop here today to be mustered. I believe that we shall get two months pay sometime this month. Hope we shall for I am nearly dead broke. But it’s growng mighty hot and I believe I shall go in the shade and have a game of Euchre with someone. I wish I could “go Maying” with you today but I shall have to wait until next year. The air is very fragrant out here now for the apple, peach, and cherry and lilac trees are in full bloom. Peas are up a foot high. Beans, potatoes, and grain are well up. I saw a field of winter rye yesterday that looked as if it would be ready to reap by the last of this month.

Oh! this is the country for me. There is no labor in farming compared with farming up North. Two men and a boy will plant and cover more corn in three hours than six men in a day in Old Massachusetts. The farmers do all their work with a kind of plow that they call bull-beam and use no hoes at all.

I hope you are on the gain and will soon be able to go out doors and enjoy yourselves. This living in a house in summer ain’t what it’s cracked up to be. Live out-doors if you want to be healthy. I was never so healthy before.

Write often. With much love to all (which includes Little Wall), I remain yours affectionately, — Charley

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