CAMP-LIFE AND ITS INFLUENCES.
1861.--Our unmilitary Appearance.--First Equipage.--My Black Mare.--Good
and Evil Influences.--News-Boys.--Mail-Bag.--Letter-Writing.--The
Bugle Corps.--Camp Guard.--Guerillas under Turner Ashby.--Mounted
Drill.--Laughable Experiences with Horses.--Southern Egotism.--
Northern Fancies.
Drill! drill! and camp-police are the order of the day. Indeed we have
nothing else to do, and to do nothing at all is the hardest kind of
work. We expect soon to have some accoutrements to enable us to drill
something besides our feet. Our preparations for war have commenced at
the extremities; for thus far nothing but our heads and feet have been
instructed. However, as we become better acquainted with this part of
our duty we enjoy it better than at first, and we think we are making no
very mean progress.
For some time after our arrival here, the Government was unable to
supply us with uniforms, or weapons of war, and our appearance was far
from being _a la militaire_, as Captain Duffie would have it. Coming as
we did from colleges and schools, from offices and counting-rooms, from
shops and farms, and some from no occupation at all, each with the
peculiar dress he wore when he enlisted, and already pretty well worn
out by our labors at Camp Howe and extensive travelling, we were a most
unsightly, heterogeneous mass of humanity, and were a subject of no
little sport to our better-clad fellow-soldiers. Especially was this the
case when on a certain day General B. F. Butler reviewed the troops of
this department, and we were made to appear before him and the multitude
with our hats and caps, our coats and jackets, in nearly all colors, and
many of them in rags and shags. We certainly had nothing to recommend us
to the consideration of military men, except the courageous spirit that
throbbed in our generally robust frames. But we were hopeful of better
days, when we might have the appearance and equipage as well as the
internal qualities of soldiers.
But the Government was so wholly unprepared for war, that our supplies
were received very slowly. First came our uniforms, which every man
donned gladly, and yet with a feeling that the last link to civil life,
for the present, was severed, and that henceforth in a very peculiar
sense we belonged to our common country.
A few days after our arrival at Camp Oregon, we were joined by the men
who belonged to our regiment from other States. This added fresh
enthusiasm, as well as new strength, to our ranks. However, there is as
yet nothing in our _tout ensemble_ to distinguish us from infantry or
artillery, except the yellow trimming of our blue uniforms, whereas the
infantry has the light-blue trimming, and the artillery bright red.
_August 23._--To-day I am happy to make the following entry in my diary,
namely: the regiment was furnished with sabres, Colt's revolvers and
all the necessary appendages, consisting of belts and ammunition-boxes.
Every man has now a new care and pride--to keep his sabre bright, and
his entire outfit clean, that he may wear them with pleasure to himself
and honor to his comrades. The morning and evening of the 24th were
spent in sabre exercise, with which we were all delighted. This is the
first development in us of the cavalry element as such, and we begin to
feel our individuality. We desire to have this growth continue
uninterruptedly, and in aid of it, in the early part of September, came
quite a large installment of horses and equipments. This occurred while
the regiment occupied a camp about three miles from Washington, on the
Bladensburg road, which we named Sussex, in honor of Sussex county, New
York, our colonel's native county. As the number of horses furnished us
at this time was not sufficient to mount the whole command, the number
received by each company was proportioned to the maximum roll of its
men. After the non-commissioned officers of each company, including all
the sergeants and corporals, had drawn their horses according to rank,
the privates were made to draw lots for the remainder--a performance
which produced no little amount of excitement.
Several of our comrades were of course unfortunately compelled for
several days to march on foot, though much against their wishes; for
nothing could be more humiliating to a dragoon than to be trudging
through the mud and dust, while his companions were gliding past him
with their neighing steeds, on their way to the drill-grounds, or to
any other post of duty. It was my good fortune to be the recipient of a
beautiful black mare, only five years old, full of life and fiery metal,
fourteen hands high, and weighing ten hundred pounds. She was a gem for
the cavalry service, or any thing else, and a friendship was to grow up
between us worthy of historic mention.
We are now fairly out upon the ocean of our new life, and are beginning
to feel its influence. It does not take the careful observer long to
notice the effects which outward changes and circumstances have upon the
characters of most men. Indeed, no man remains unaffected by them; he
either advances or retrogrades, and it is very apparent already among us
that while soldiering does make some men, it _un_ makes many. The very
lowest stratum of life among us, such as represents the loungers in the
streets and lanes of our cities,--those who have neither occupation nor
culture, is amazingly influenced for the better by military discipline.
These men now find themselves with something to do, and with somebody to
make them do it. The progress is very slow, it is true, and in some
cases exceptional, but this is evidently the general tendency.
But on the other hand, our regiment is made up partly of young men from
respectable families, reared under the influences of a pure morality;
but they find that the highest standard of morality presented here is
much lower than they were wont to have at home, and they soon begin to
waver. Thus having lost their first moorings of character, they start
downward, and in many instances are precipitated to horrible depths.
"When once a shaking monarchy declines,
Each thing grows bold and to its fall combines."
Only a very few have sufficient force in themselves to effectually
resist these evils. It must be remembered that the wholesome and normal
restraints of virtuous female society are wholly removed from us. And
from what we daily see around us we are convinced that a colony of men
only, however virtuous or moral, would in a short time run into utter
barbarism. No candid observer can doubt the teaching of the old
scripture, that "it is not good for man to be alone."
Moreover, the friends and associates of our childhood's innocence, whose
presence always calls forth the purest memories, are not with us; nor do
we feel the almost omnipotent influences of the old school-house
gatherings, of the church-going bell, and of the home-fireside. When you
sever all these ties and helps to a moral life, and throw a man in the
immediate association of the vicious, he must be only a little less than
an angel not to fall. Here we are all dressed alike, live alike, and are
all subject to like laws and discipline. The very man who shares our
blanket and tent-cover, who draws rations from the same kettle, who
drinks from the same canteen, and with whom we are compelled to come in
contact daily, may be the veriest poltroon, whose diploma shows
graduation at the Five Points, and whose presence alone is morally
miasmatic. Consequently our camp is infested more or less with gambling,
drunkenness, and profanity, and all their train of attending evils, and
at times we long for campaigning in the field, where it seems to us we
may rid ourselves of this demoralization. Hannibal's toilsome marches
across the Alps and through Upper Italy only gave hardihood and courage
to his legions, who came thundering at the very gates of Rome, and
threatening its immediate overthrow; but a winter's camp-life at Capua
left them shorn of their strength.
But then we have remedial influences even in camp, and we hail them with
no little delight. Daily the news-boys make their appearance, calling
out: "Washington Chronicle and New York papers!" They enjoy an extensive
patronage. With these sheets many moments are pleasantly spent, as their
columns are eagerly perused. Then, following hard on the track of the
news-boys, comes our adjutant's orderly or courier with a mail-bag full
of letters, precious mementos from the loved ones at home. These
messages are the best reminders we have of our home-life, especially
when they are brim-full, as is usually the case, with patriotic
sparkling, and with affection's purest libations. These letters have a
double influence; while they keep the memories of home more or less
bright within us, and at times so bright that as we read we can almost
see our mothers, wives, and sisters in their tender Christian solicitude
for us, they also stimulate us to greater improvements in the epistolary
art. Men who never wrote a letter in their lives before, are at it now;
those who cannot write at all, are either learning, or engage their
comrades to write for them, and the command is doing more writing in
one day than, I should judge, we used to do in a month, and, perhaps, a
year.
No sooner are the contents of the mail-bag distributed, and devoured by
the eager newsmongers, than active preparations are made for responding.
Some men carry pocket-inkstands and write with pens, but the majority
use pencils. Here you see one seated on a stump or fence, addressing his
"sweet-heart" or somebody else; another writes standing up against a
tree, while a third is lying flat on the ground. Thus either in the
tents or in the open air, scribbling is going on, and the return mail
will carry many sweet words to those who cannot be wholly forgotten. I
suppose in this way we are not only making, but writing history.
Camp-life then is not entirely monotonous.
THE BUGLE-CORPS.
Sights and sounds of interest may be seen and heard at almost every hour
of the day. The morning is ushered in with the shrill reveille, which
means awake and arise. This is well executed by our bugle-corps, which
Captain Duffie has organized, and is drilling thoroughly. All our
movements are now ordered by the bugle. By its blast we are called to
our breakfast, dinner and supper. Roll-call is sounded twice a day, and
the companies fall into line, when the first sergeants easily ascertain
whether every man is at his post of duty. The bugle calls the sick, and
sometimes those who feign to be, to the surgeon's quarters, and their
wants and woes are attended to. By the bugle we are summoned to
inspections, to camp-guard, to the feeding and watering of our horses
and to drill. A peculiarly shrill call is that which brings all the
first or orderly sergeants to the adjutant's quarters to receive any
special order he may have to communicate.
Thus call after call is sounded at intervals throughout the day, ending
with "taps," which is the signal for blowing out the lights, and seeking
the rest which night demands.
CAMP GUARD.
Our principal duties now are camp guard and drill, which we perform by
turns. Every morning quite a large force is detailed, with a
commissioned officer in command, for guard duty. These form a line of
dismounted pickets, or vedettes, around the entire camp. They are
stationed within sight and hailing distance of each other, enabling them
to prevent any one from leaving or entering camp without a written pass
in the day-time, or the countersign at night. The rule is to have each
man stand post for two hours, when he is relieved. This is the maximum
time, and is sometimes made less at the discretion of the commandant.
We are told, as we perform this duty, that it is not very unlike the
picketing that will be required of us if we are ever permitted to take
the field which confronts the enemy. Indeed, this is picketing on a
small scale. And our enthusiasm in this branch of our work increases, as
we are almost daily in receipt of accounts of attacks on our pickets
along the line of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad and the Cumberland
Canal. It appears that a certain Colonel Turner Ashby, with a force of
cavaliers (?) acting as guerillas, singly and in squads, is nightly
endeavoring to sever our telegraph wires, to burn our railroad-bridges,
and to destroy the canal, or fire at our men on the passing boats; and
not unfrequently we read of skirmishes in which several of our pickets
have been either captured, wounded, or killed. Of course, we expect
before long to face Mr. Ashby and his confederates, and we are preparing
ourselves for it.
MOUNTED DRILL.
But this we do specially in the drill. Recently the balance of our men
were gladdened with a full supply of horses. Mounted drill is now the
general order, and nearly all our time not otherwise occupied is devoted
to this exercise. At first we had some exciting times with our young and
untrained horses. One of our men received a kick from his horse which
proved fatal to his life. Several of our wildest and seemingly
incorrigible ones we have been compelled to run up the steepest hills in
the vicinity, under the wholesome discipline of sharp spurs, until the
evil has been sweated out of them. We find, however, that the trouble is
not only with the horses, but frequently with the men, many of whom have
never bridled a horse nor touched a saddle. And then, too, these curbed
bits in the mouths of animals that had been trained with the common
bridle, produced a most rebellious temper, causing many of them to rear
up in the air as though they had suddenly been transformed into
monstrous kangaroos, while the riders showed signs of having taken
lessons in somersets. Some of the scenes are more than ludicrous. Horses
and men are acting very awkwardly, also, with the guiding of the animal
by the rein against the neck, and not by the bit, as we were accustomed
to do at home.
We do not wonder much that the chivalrous Black Horse gentry have
expressed their contempt of Northern "mudsills and greasy mechanics,"
and have made their brags that we could never match them. But then it is
said that these Southrons were born in a saddle, and were always trained
in horsemanship. They generally perform their pleasure excursions, go on
their business journeys, and even to church, on horseback. They were
therefore prepared for the cavalry service, before we had so much as
_thought_ of it. But let them beware of what they think or say, for _we
can learn_, and it does frequently occur that somewhere in the
experience of contending parties, "the first is last, and the last
first."
We are improving rapidly. There is so much exhilaration in the shrill
bugle-notes which order the movements of the drill, and so much life in
its swift evolutions, that the men and horses seem to dance rather than
walk on their way to the drill grounds, and both are readily learning
the certain sounds of the trumpet, and becoming masters of motions and
dispositions required of them. Like all other apprentices, of course, we
occasionally indulge in the reveries of imagination, and we think we are
laying the foundation of a career which is destined to be important and
glorious. Be this as it may, we do not mean to be outstripped by any one
in our knowledge and practice of cavalry tactics, and of the general
manoeuvrings of war.
[Illustration: CAVALRY COLUMN ON THE MARCH.]