2  July, 1863 

My Dearest Liliya, 

I write to you from just behind the war torn battlefield of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. My heart is aching for all the young men fighting and dying on the battlefield that will never get a chance to make their way to me on the surgical table. This war is an endless tiresome war and whilst I believe in the things that the Union is fighting for, I do not believe that killing is the way to go. From the work I do I can only see the harm this war is causing, many many lives have been lost and it is difficult to see the good this war is doing. Sometimes when it gets too overwhelming I try not to think at all. 

Earlier in the day the Confederates started bombarding us. Then they proceeded to cause all hell to break loose with heavy fighting at the wheatfield, Peach orchard, and Devil’s Den. 

This is the first break I have gotten in nearly two days. As I look up at the starry night, my hands are sore from all the surgeries I’ve performed and my memory is stained with procedures that went wrong. I fear when this war is over, if it ever ends, I will forever be haunted by these dark days. There are a few moments of joy though and that is when we have rest and are away from the heavy fighting. It is almost like we were all just out camping playing games like baseball and telling stories around the campfire. But even with those few joyous moments the everpresent war still looms in the background. For instance, most of the young men I was sitting with only a few days ago, some of them just 16 years of age, will never be able to share stories with their brothers in arms again. Just that thought alone makes my heart heavy with grief.     

Only one thing alleviates the internal pain I feel, and that is you my dear Liliya. Thinking of you sitting by a warm fire, at night, safe in New York with our two beautiful children Ezra and Genevieve. I am here far from all of you to do my duty to ensure that Ezra will never have to fight such a war. When this terrible conflict is done, all I would like to do is sit by that fire with all of you and laugh, smile, and tell stories with each other. That is all I would like to do when the war is over, that is all. 

All my love,

Edmund Parker