Dear Brother George,
Your kind favor of the 29 Ultimo [29th of the last month] came to hand yesterday and its perusal afforded me much pleasure. You being at home among so many dear ones do not have chance to think of me as often as I do of you. Not a day passes but some little instance will be brought forth to remind me of home, and before I am aware of it I am dreaming; that is I am gazing on an imaginary picture or landscape. I see loved and cherished faces, hear sweet voices and gaze on familiar scenes. When some of the boys want to borrow my knife or something else and away goes my dream, my castle in the air is broken and I am again in Washington, scribbling for "Uncle Samuel."
I did not intend to resume writing so soon, an order came to the hospital for Corporal Frank Babcock to report to this office with-out or his place would have to be filled from some other source, so I packed up my dry goods and here I am, and at the present time feeling better than ever since the 17th of Dec 1862.
Don't think, George, that I shall forget that date very sudden, indeed I don't. My old office, Medical Bureau of the Provost Marshal General's Office, has been consolidated with Medical Director's, and under the latter's name. My business is Endorsement Clerk and very careful I have to be in regard to the many communications that pass through my hands. Many people all over the Northern states, officers and privates, have friends and those friends are sending letters and telegraphic dispatches inquiring for some one who is supposed to be in hospital. And then we have to examine our books and if the man is found we write back to his friends all we know of him. And when I tell you that every other man up North is writing since the fighting commenced you can judge what a heavy correspondence I have and what a job it is to carry it on. But if one works steady he can do a good deal in a day.
I received a letter from Rob. Ealden day before yesterday; he was then at Spotsylvania C.H. and under orders to be ready to move at any moment. He does not know where Smith is but thinks he is a prisoner. The last he saw of him was the 6 Ultimo. Smith made detail from Co. I for Picket and Rob had to go and he has not seen Piff since that morning. The Regiment went into the battle while Rob was off skirmishing and what was Smith's fate he cannot say. I have hopes that he is a prisoner, for they won't use him very rough, it is the Commissioned Officers that they keep so closely confined.
The days are very warm here, and it is also very dusty for we have not had any rain in a week or more, but the evenings are delightful; so cool and refreshing after toiling thro' the long sultry summer's day. Just the time to stroll through the Presidential ground. The many gay flowers, the orange and other Southern flowering trees are in full bloom and fill the air with most exquisite perfume. I sit and smoke, my mind wanders far off to the Land of dark Mystery. I try to gaze into the dark and mysterious Future and I often discover myself asking "what has it in store for me?" Echo answers "what?" and I finally am forced to the conclusion "that there is a Destiny shapes our end, rough hew it as we may." But we will change the subject if you please.
Before the 1st of January a person might get a "Nig." that was good for something. But now the whole tribe haint worth one cent, and by my faith I think the majority of the population of the city is "Cullerd People." Going up and down the Avenue you will have a gang of a dozen or more "mokes" after you with "Black your boots Sah!" "Put on a Union Polish Sah!" "Only a dime Sah!" and they will follow you even after you have told them no a dozen times. One took particular pains to dog after me every time I happened along. So one day I thought I would cure him of his Niggah impudence. I stopped and told him to put on a good polish, but just as he got his box nicely fixed I have it a kick into the ditch. Well George you ought to have seen that dark's eyes and teeth, suffice it to say he never troubled me since.
Times are quick in this city, not much excitement over the recent battles. I believe every one has become so hardened to blood and slaughter that the lists of the wounded and the wounded themselves do not affect them. The number of wounded deported to this office from the recent fighting is 28,000. The hospitals are crowded, before I left Carver they had to lay beds on the floors of the wards.
I saw the surgeons amputate legs, arms, fingers, and toes. One man was brought into the operating room who had a very ugly wound in his thigh. The surgeons went to work a ball and a two bladed knife which was drove into his hip out of sight. The knife was in his pocket and the ball hit it and drove it into the flesh. The large blade was broken into three pieces. Dr. Judson has the knife in his office as a curiosity.
But I must close. Give my love to all, remember me to the gals and I remain,
Your Aff'c't Brother
Frank
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