I feel as if I ought to write today not only to acknowledge the receipt of these letters…but because it is my birthday and suggests many memories of the past, among the happiest of which your sweet form is closely interwoven. Perhaps you will not remember the day, as it is not the anniversary of any event so important to you as to me, but still perhaps you will think of me a little oftener and more tenderly than usual. I am thirty-one years old today, and nearly eleven years of this, we have been man and wife. For how many more years God has decreed my life to be lengthened out, He only knows, and whether they shall be as full of blessings as those that are gone. But whether they may be many or few, I hope they will bear witness of a faithful discharge of duty both to those I love on earth and my Father in heaven. Who is there that could not mend his life, if he could live his years over again, and how many think more of the errors of the past than the promise, and of the opportunities of the future. I hope to be a better husband and father, a better citizen and a better Christian in the future than I have been in the past.
You may think it strange that I promise nothing to my present profession as a soldier. The reason is that I hope my mission as a soldier will end before another birthday. Certainly my present term of enlistment will expire before next August 20th, and unless Gen. Hooker should accomplish his threat of making me a Brigadier General, I will be a citizen again. For after three years of the best service I could render, if they don’t promote me, I shall think the public does not need my help in that department and shall try to help myself in some other pursuit.
The very complimentary notice which Gen. Hooker made of me in conversation with Halstead was, of course, very gratifying to me; but in all candor I do think “Uncle Joe” was somewhat extravagant and hope he will not push me too rapidly, as that has been the ruin of more than one good officer in the war. On your account and my children, I should like to wear the “lone star,” when I can feel that I have won it, but my own ambition does not soar very high; and as such favor have been generally obtained through political influence and hard begging, I fear we need not look with much confidence which I have won among the brave officers and men of my command is worth more to me than a Brigadier’s star, though the public will of course look to the latter as the evidence of the former…. I have talked enough about myself and my humble military career. Lest your affection might lend you to exaggerate my merits as a soldier, let me assure you that I am not a Julius Ceasar [sic], nor a Napoleon, but a plain Hoosier Col., with no more relish for a fight than for a good breakfast and hardly so much….
Write to me often and tell me everything. I am in excellent health; and since I have heard of your recovery, in fine and hopeful spirits. May God abundantly bless you and the dear children and bring me to your arms again when my duty is done. Love to all friends.
Letter to Caroline Harrison, August 20th, 1864.
Harrison MSS, Vol. 5.
Caroline had recently recovered from a serious illness. Ben and the rest of Sherman’s army were engaged in fighting around Atlanta. When the final capitulation came on September 2nd, it meant that Ben could get a furlough home.
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