18th Alabama Infantry CONFEDERATE CIVIL WAR LETTER - Written near Dalton, GA

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18th Alabama Infantry CONFEDERATE CIVIL WAR LETTER - Written near Dalton, GA :
$456.00

Civil War Letter

This remarkable Confederate Civil War letter was penned by a young private in Co. E, 18th Alabama Infantry, named James A. Durrett from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. It was written in a camp near Dalton, Georgia and contains battle news and description!

Durrett\'s archive of letters was used by a great-great-grandnephew to write a book entitled, “Letters” that is available for purchase or download on the internet. It is a work of fiction — only partially factual — based upon Durrett\'s letters. The greatest departure from the truth is placing James with his regiment at the Battle of Franklin in Tennessee when we know from his military record that he was in a hospital at Jackson, Mississippi. There is also the creation of a fictitious colonel named Brown who factors in the story of James’ final days at Spanish Fort.

Notwithstanding, the book is an interesting read. Advertising the book, the publisher says: “Painting a graphic, realistic picture,Letters, presents the Civil War through the eyes of two teenaged soldiers fighting on opposing sides…for different reasons. Behind the Confederate lines, we watch James Durrett, a young recruit of the 18th Alabama Volunteer Regiment, transform from a naïve, green recruit into a bitter, deadly, but staunch defender of his homeland. Across the battle lines, the drama unfurls through the story of one Harry Morgan, a loner with a reputation as the coldest and deadliest sniper in the Union’s 96th Regiment, who didn’t care who he shot…as long as he could carve another notch into the stock of his Sharps rifle. In the end, the final destiny of each young man crosses on the battlefield of Spanish Fort, Alabama…with only one walking away alive.”

TRANSCRIPTION

Camp near Dalton, Georgia
December 2nd 1863

Dear Sister,

I suppose you have heard the sad news of Tom’s capture before now. I know that a wise Providence has and will direct all things to be as they are, but I sometimes wish that I had been permitted to have shared his fate. I know that if alive, a long and tedious captivity and exile from home and all that is dear to him awaits him, but he can feel that he has done his duty, and that will sustain him in captivity — or death if need be. I will tell you all I have been able to learn about him.

When our Brigade went into battle it went into an ambush the Yankees had prepared and the first notice they gave of themselves was to pour a deadly fire into our Brigade from three directions. This threw us into confusion and a great many — seeing that they were flanked and nearly surrounded — started to run but being rallied by the officers, stopped and fought until the officers — also seeing the danger of being cut off — gave the command to retreat. Tom with eleven others of our company either not hearing or not wishing to obey such an order, stood their ground and while the rest made their escape, were surrounded. The rest is left to conjecture whether they continued to fight and were killed at their post (which I do not think probable), or, seeing they were surrounded and no chance of escape, surrendered. But if the worst happened and God in his mercy saw proper to remove him from this world of sin and troubles to himself in heaven where there is no war, no sad partings, we should not grieve as those who have no hope, for though there is nothing perfect in this world, I believe Tom lived as pure and godly a life a man can live under such circumstances. Through all the vice and wickedness incident to camp life, he was as uncontaminated as when he left home now nearly three years ago. What I lose even by his absence, God only knows, for he was to me brother, friend, protector, counsellor, and all that I could ask for. But it has pleased God to remove my main earthly stay and support that I may learn to call on Him in the hour of adversity and need.

I was not in the battle. I was detailed to hold the Colonel’s horse. Because I had no gun, my business does not require me to keep a gun, and as we were not expecting a battle even in the morning of the day it came off. I had no chance to get a gun, but I think I will be prepared for the next one. I came very near being captured — so near that I was obliged to throw away my knapsack and haversack and run about five miles. But I suppose I had better not tell that part of it as it is not military to throw away baggage on a retreat. I will close for tonight.

Thursday morn. Dec. 3rd

Dear Jane,

I am well this morning. The weather is very cold here, and as we have no shelters to sleep under, the frost is in a thick coat on our blankets every morning. But it is a great deal more pleasant than wet weather, though a great many of us men are barefooted and you can imagine that is not very pleasant in itself. I have a right lonesome time of it without Tom now but camp is a bad place to be lonesome for no matter what happens, everything goes on the same joking, trifling way. It would be a real treat to me to hear a good serious conversation but no such thing ever takes place between two soldiers. You must write often to me for you know Mamma does not write often and Papa not at all. You must remember that everyday when the mail comes, how anxiously I look for a letter. I will write as often as I can. Remember me to Mrs. Peak. Kiss Becky for me. I have not time to write any more. Remember me in your prayers.

From your affectionate brother — James A. Durrett.

TERMS

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