Outstanding collection of 10 war-dated handwritten letters from Confederate Brigadier General George B. Anderson of the 4th North Carolina Infantry, each addressed to his wife Mildred Ewing, dated between 1861 and 1862. The collection amounts to 33 pages of strong personal and war-related content, with all letters unsigned but written entirely in Anderson’s hand, who closes each with either “Good-bye,” “Your husband," or a simple endearment. In addition to his notes and assurances from the battlefield, Anderson's letters are marked by warm outpourings of support for his wife, and genuine concern for her condition; during the course of this correspondence, she gave birth to their first son, and became pregnant with their second. Highlighted sections are as follows:
August 9, 1861, written at a “Court Room or rather under a tent fly where the court is being held,” in part: “I will take advantage of a five minutes recess and the good nature of the Judge Advocate to scribble you a line…The remaining companies of the regiment came in to my great delight this morning. I will have my hands fuller than you know. If I could only get rid of this wretched court I would be very well satisfied with situation and circumstances…Be of good cheer, My Darling, your husband loves you and thinks of you all the time, and he is happy and hopeful of the future. All will be well. Keep up a good brave heart.” His wife, eight months pregnant at the time, would give birth to their first son, Ewing Anderson, in the following month.
March 27 (no year), written at a “Camp near Rapidan” in Virginia, which begins with Anderson formulating a method of bringing his wife closer to camp: “The Chief thing at the bottom of them all are the horrible nature of the roads and the absolute uncertainty of the time of arrival of the trains…My application for leave to go to Richmond has been refused, but I am going to see Gen. Johnston in person this morning and have a little hope that his decision may be reversed…If you knew the difficulty under which I am writing this letter My Darling you would readily excuse its imperfections. I have to write near the fire on a book in my lap, and every second or two the smoke puffs into my face and blinds me and makes me mad. It is useless to change places for the wind blows in all directions. I had no difficulty in getting a place for you to stay…I got it at a Mrs. Gerrill’s…a little more than a mile from camp…A considerable number of recruits are coming in for the regiment and I think I can interest myself very greatly in preparing it for efficient service in the coming campaign.”
A letter dated Wednesday, April 2 (no year), relays Anderson’s arduous ride back to camp after spending time with his wife, his ability to ascertain a house for her stay closer to camp, and then offers her information on the forthcoming trip, in part: “I cannot go all the way to Gordonsville even if I could get the leave, for I was quite out of sorts again last night and to-day and am not fit for so hard a ride. I dread the ride for you too…it will be a pretty severe test to your carriages…I will repeat that you must come by the first opportunity, and be sure to telegraph to me before starting…Get Mr. Taylor to give you a start on the road he showed me and full directions.”
May 13 (no year), written at a “Camp near Ch[ickahominy]” in Virginia: “Matters seem very quiet here now. I have no idea myself that anything of importance will take place for several days at least. The Army is, I think, in good fighting spirits though greatly disorganized by the fatigues and exposures it has gone through and the immense amount of straggling that has ensued. I feel myself hopeful and confident of the result so far as land operations are concerned. And I cannot but think that our authorities have taken steps that will delay at least any approach to Richmond by water till time has been gained to prepare it for defense.”
Another letter written on May 13th from Chickahominy: “You must be happy My Precious for your husband is in a thousand times safer and happier position than he was a few days ago. The difference indeed is enough to bring many a smile of contentment and satisfaction to our faces. At this moment I would not give ten cents to ensure my seeing you again…when ten days ago I would have considered a hundred dollars on cheap. Such is I think a fair statement of the proportion between the chances as they then existed and as they exist now…your husband has gotten out of the very worst scrape he is likely to be in for a long time.”
August 4 (no year), written from Richmond: “I was delayed at Petersburg from yesterday afternoon till this morning at 9 o’clock. I had a sick headache nearly all day yesterday and my leg ached too most famously and I was sick during the night…I met Col. Dick Wintersmith [who]…gave me a good deal of information about Kentucky matters which will be interesting to you…There is a most excellent prospect of a very successful campaign within a very few weeks in the South west. In fact he is confident that our army will gain possession of Tennessee and most of Kentucky—and capture or destroy most of Buell’s army.”
August 14 (no year), a more somber missive written at a “Camp near Richmond,” in part: “No answer has reached Richmond at 12 o’clock to-day to my dispatch sent yesterday, and I feel very very anxious about our dear little baby—God bless him and keep him safe for your sake…I wish that any sacrifice, any pain I could endure would save you suffering. How willingly I would give it.”
A lengthy letter from August 18, 1862, written at a “Camp near Richmond,” in part: “Since twelve o’clock last night, My Darling, we have been under orders to go by railroad to Gordonsville. I wish most sincerely that I could have had word of it sooner, so that I might have telegraphed you to come up and see me before I started…There is no news from Jackson and I do not know that our move has any special significance except that probably it was grounded on the ascertained fact that McClellan’s whole army has gone to reinforce Pope. It is probably that being amongst the last to go up we will be held in reserve and in the safest position for they are less likely than others to be brought into action. You must be very sure My Darling not to let yourself be agitated by false alarms. The whole air will be filled with them, and any one who mind them will die a new death every day.”
An undated letter written on “Sunday afternoon,” relaying news of large-scale Union movements in West Virginia: “I was quite stampeded for a while by the Major’s account of the message together with the contents of a telegram which he showed me from Winchester to the effect that thirty thousand Yankees were crossing the Potomac at Harper’s Ferry and thirty thousand more were coming into the valley…But my nerves were quieted by a visit I paid to Dr. Williams through the new snow storm. He mitigated somewhat the austerity of the messages, and gave me a delicious toddy of peach brandy and honey…Don’t you envy me?”
Another undated letter, written “Sunday—In Camp,” with the reverse address panel bearing the lone instance of his signature, “Mrs. Col. G. B. Anderson.” The letter reads, in part: “I find that it is still altogether uncertain when we shall leave. It is almost certain however that it will not be until to-morrow. I do not think I would be justifiable in keeping the ambulance waiting so long on my private convenience…In regard to your going on the train, it is so uncertain at what hour of the day or night we may start, it might be so bad an hour or so bad weather for the baby…that I do not think it will do at all to depend upon it.”
Includes two other handwritten letters dating to the Civil War and relating to Anderson:
A two-page letter addressed to Mildred Ewing (Anderson) by her former classmate Margie Botelin, dated September 18, 1862, relaying news of her husband’s health following the Battle of Antietam, in part: “I am writing by the bed side of your husband who is wounded in the foot, not seriously, but it is painful of course…He means to make his way to you very soon…Now don't be too anxious. I have told you all.”
A four-page letter addressed to Mildred by Thomas M. Blount, an E Company soldier of the 4th North Carolina Infantry, dated June 2, 1862, offering an update on her husband’s good health and a detailed account of Anderson’s bravery during the battle at Williamsburg, which earned him “the title of the bravest of the brave. He led one or two charges himself. He had command of the Brigade & handled it like a perfect veteran.”
George B. Anderson (1831-1862) was a career military officer who received an appointment to the United States Military Academy and graduated tenth of forty-three cadets in the Class of 1852. With the outbreak of the Civil War, Anderson resigned his US Army commission on April 25, 1861, and was soon appointed as colonel of the 4th North Carolina Infantry on July 16th. Anderson led his regiment at the Battle of Williamsburg in May 1862, where his gallantry was witnessed by Confederate President Jefferson Davis himself. Davis watched as Anderson grabbed the flag of a Georgia regiment, charged up the hill with his men cheering behind him, and, despite suffering casualties with every step, planted the flag on the heavily defended breastwork. Davis immediately rewarded him with a promotion to brigadier general.
On September 17, 1862, Anderson was wounded at Antietam while defending a portion of the Sunken Road (known as ‘Bloody Lane’), and was forced to have his foot amputated. He traveled home and rejoined his wife and infant child in Greensboro, NC, but an infection from the surgery took his life on October 16th, two days before his wife gave birth to their second son. Due to his early death at the age of 31, Anderson's autograph is extremely scarce in any form—further elevating this wonderful archive of his personal wartime correspondence.
