I met John Hynes yesterday, on the road to the Landing. [John R., an old-time Manchester printer, in the Third N. H. Regiment.]
CAMP NEAR BERMUDA HUNDRED, VA., _May 13, 1864_.
Yesterday morning the Second set out, with the rest of the army, for a raid on the Danville Railroad, and are expected back today, as they took rations for but two days. My duties required that I should stay here, and right glad was I, as it rained nearly all day and through the night, and I was much more comfortable under a good shelter tent than I would have been plugging through the mud. There were about half a dozen left in my camp squad, and we had a jolly time of it. We bought a beef liver and some potatoes for dinner, and sirloin steak and potatoes for supper, and Johnny Powell and I fixed up a tent in which we slept as snug as a bug in a rug.
Day before yesterday Gordon got instructions to make out our final statements, which are the preliminaries to a discharge. He was at work on them when marching orders came, when, of course, he suspended operations until he gets back from this raid, which will probably be today.
I think it is about time to finish this letter. The army has been for five days on a movement against Fort Darling, and got back today. [Here follows an account of the Fort Darling expedition, substantially as given in the succeeding letter, and the reason for duplicating which is made clear in that letter.]
HEADQUARTERS SECOND N. H. V., POINT OF ROCKS, VA., _May 18, 1864_.
This morning I received your letter, dated from Manchester. Yesterday I sent a letter off directed to New London, but as you have concluded not to go there I suppose your chances of getting it right off are not very good. So, to relieve your anxiety, I write again. Our date of discharge has at last been definitely settled, and you need not expect me before the 7th of June. That is General Butler’s fiat, which is law.
This army has had some fighting to do since it landed here. At this very moment the rebels are attacking a portion of our intrenched line not half a mile from where I am sitting, and there is a terrific uproar of cannon and musketry. A week ago the army went out on an expedition to stir up the rebels. They skirmished with them, drove them toward Fort Darling, and took the outer line of rifle-pits. I took the regimental mail up, and found the boys within five hundred yards of a large rebel fort, over which two big garrison flags were floating. They were behind a good log breastwork, and our skirmishers were well out in front, behind logs and stumps, popping away so industriously that the rebels were not working a single one of their cannon. I stayed as long as I could find any excuse, to distribute my mail and to watch the sport, then rode back to camp. The next morning, before I had rolled out of my blankets, I heard heavy firing up the river, and knew that a battle was on. It was a couple hours before I could get started with my mail. The road, after I had gone a piece, was full of wounded men on foot and ambulances loaded with mangled humanity. One driver told me he had in his wagon the body of Captain Platt, who was killed by a bullet in the head.