Kentucky, November 25, 1861

Today it is pay day, we are still at the same place, no excitement among us. It is likely that we soon will go south to Bal and Grin river in Kentucky or Tennessee. We all wish to leave here as soon as possible.

We are camping on low ground, and the weather is cold. The last few days we have had a little snow, many are sick, but none that you know except Fredrik Olson is sick with fever at a hospital in Louisville.

I weigh one houndred and eighty-five pounds now, but how long is uncertain in this climate. Peder is also in good order.

Our tent is eight foot square, and in it we have five Norwegians, myself, Evend, Andrew Anderson, S. and N. C. Ruke.

I think we will live happy now for a few days as long as the money holds out, we don’t get any whiskey, but apples are fifty cents a bushel, pie ten cents, and cider five cents a quart, which is hauled in here by the wagon loads every day. I am happy that I have no money to spend for such, which therefore I believe I have more power to stand against sickness.

I have been waiting a long time to hear from you, write to me all the news you know.

We have enough of food and clothes, but our tents are not as comfortable and warm as we wish they were.

We have had very little drilling to do lately, but today we got an order to drill four times a day and no excuse even if we are on guard duty all night. Two of the four times we drill with full equipment.

We have no lice. We have about forty women in the regiment, some of them make lots of money natures’ way. One of them had a bill today against a soldier for forty dollars.

It is now eight o’clock in the evening. Five are playing cards for money in our little tent. I, with my letter on my knees, am writing these lines.

Ole Hendrikson is very orderly, but just now he said he is surprised that they don’t send us to the place where we shall be killed.