Dearest Abigail,

The sunshine has finally blessed us with its life-giving warmth. Bloodroot and pansy have begun to awaken from their seasonal slumber, and the men are most joyous at the looming arrival of the spring. Esprit de corps in our winter quarters was further lifted by the announcement of reinforcements arriving soon.

Messrs. Grigson and Irsay brought us the news one afternoon past. We are told that we should soon have the chance to welcome properly our arriving comrades to our bivouac within a fortnight.

These new lads are veterans themselves. Lt. Herremans, Cpt. Johnson and Sgt. Gore rode in numerous campaigns prior to their arrival here. Why, Gore himself once saw action in the granddaddy of all skirmishes, albeit came out on the losing side to a group from the border states headed by Old One Eyebrow, a fellow I myself have tangled with on occasion.

I do believe Gore's former outfit, one from the recently established gold camps in California, fell into a bit of turmoil in the wake of that, hastening his own departure. 'Tis for our gain. I think he could teach our lads a thing or two about pushing onward after being poked up in the fields of New England.

It is Johnson that I most look forward to having under my command. Though aged, he is an able adjunct and quite something to see in his gas-pipes, oh my!

A number of these fellows are acquaintances from time spent campaigning in the swamps of Florida. I've heard tell of some that consider dragoons from an outfit called "The U" to be Sunday soldiers at best preoccupied with the fancy gals, and a few men have worried that these new adds might turn copperhead on us, but I can assure you that when the hornets are flying they earn their sawbucks with the best of them.

Welcoming such experienced fighters into the wagon should provide a nice elixir to wounds suffered at the hands of the foul brigands from Foxborough.

Some have questioned the acquisition of aging replacements. Pish posh! I'd rather have a few savvy veterans over a skirmish line full of Irishmen any day.

Our mental state was further improved following the dispatch of Trent Richardson. The men have never forgiven him for taking a French leave.

I am well all around, putting some meat back onto these bones following the long winter. I've trimmed back the bird nest on my chin in favor of nothing more than a moustache. A few of Irsay's nobs from back East and visiting from the continent assure me that this is now the preferred style for fine gentlemen. Perhaps a door knocker might adorn my visage upon our next meeting, an event I most look forward to.

The spring muster is coming soon. It shall be a camp meeting for the ages! I will take a leave prior to those days so that we might lay together under the sun somewhere. Until that day, I promise to think of you often.

Yours in flesh and spirit,

Gen. Andrew Luck