February 2nd. DEAR MOTHER: Your latest letter came this morning. I hope you wont delay writing because news is scarce. Anything from home is news if it is in your hand writing and only about the dog or cat. No, I don't suppose we get the war news earlier than you do. I thank you for sending the paper of tea, altho you remember I don't love it especially. But I am sure this will be good coming from the best of mothers. I will drink it in memory of you and home. I have read somewhere that mothers were the best beings in the world and now I know it to be true. I trust I may live to come home and prove it to you. You think our officers should see that our bread and meat is good. My dear mother they don't have a word to say about it. It's in the hands of the contractors. Don't worry, we will live thru it, and if southern bullets don't get us, we will tell you all about it when we come home. So Henry Amidon is married. Well, well, Henry is a good boy and I hope he has made no mistake in his choice. So the world goes. I used to think Mrs. Amidon's doughnuts and milk gravy was better than ours. You don't care mother do you if I say this. She was a nice cook and after walking down to Beef river, and taking a swim with Henry, and by the time we got back to his home for a late dinner, things tasted mighty good.

I was just a bit of a fool two years ago next March when I tried to wade across the foot bridge up to my chin in ice water near the mill dam to visit Henry when his folks were in Vermont. I had to back out and when I got back to shore I was so numb that I ran clear down to Uncle Dan Loomis' place and back to start my blood circulating. I was so cold I couldn't put all my clothes on and ran half naked.

I guess I've strung this letter plenty long, and part of it I can't read myself. I expect to catch it from father about my spelling as usual, well thats alright, I ought to improve as I have bo't me a pocket dictionary. It looks so much like a testament that our Chaplain came along the other day and asked me what chapter I was reading. Well, he said, the testament is the only book that is better anyway. He is a good man and wants every soldier to have a testament.

Direct as before to Co. G. Camp Randall, Madison.
Your son, CHAUNCEY.