December 13, 1862

Dear Mother,

I am writing from near Fredericksburg in Virginia. I hope you and Freddie are doing well. I am in a battle right now, but we are getting whipped. We have been moving a lot, trying to cut off the rebs before they get to Richmond, but we ended up here. The rebs are at the top of a hill with cover and our commander is leading us up to them. My friends and allies are running up into a hail of bullets and there is nothing I can do but watch. Soon I will go up with my unit. I suppose I am writing because I have a very good chance of not coming out of today alive. In a while I will most likely be on the ground next to my fellow soldiers. 

This war has made me sick to my stomach. I am living off maggot-filled crackers and occasional dry meat. I have seen so much death that I am numb to blood and gore. The camps are dirty and disgusting, but at least I have made some friends. All I can do is hope that they as well as I survive this dreadful battle. Despite all of the bad, you and Freddie have kept me going. I try to stay bright and high-spirited so I don’t lose myself in the war. When we aren’t all dying, we try to play cards and games. Otherwise, all I can do is sit with my thoughts. This has been a terrible war and I just want it over.

War is a brutal way of solving the world’s problems. People shouldn’t kill each other just because they disagree. War may solve problems in the end, but the road there isn’t worth it. Too many people are left dead or grieving. Too many people are left without homes or families, and too many people are left coming back not the same as before. I want to say that I will come back the same, but I won’t. I only hope I can come back in one piece. Say hello to Freddie for me.

Sincerely, 

Johnny Richardson