Tuesday, Sept. 17, was ushered in by a warm sun and a genial
atmosphere, which only served to increase our interest in the busy
scenes that were before us, for we were all aware that the old Sixth
would soon be en route for the seat of war. The colonel and staff were
busy issuing orders, captains of companies were instructed to issue no
passes to leave camp, and so far as was practicable all visitors were
excluded from the precincts of the camp proper. The cooks were busy
preparing our rations, and every one seemed to think himself an
important personage around the cook’s tent. As the day wore on the
clouds began to thicken, portending a storm, and as the call was
sounded by the drummers at 2 o’clock to “strike tents,” the rain came
down copiously. We rolled up the wet canvass as expeditiously as
possible, which was quickly loaded on our army wagons, together with
other camp equipage.
We received two days’ rations for our haversacks, consisting of boiled
ham and hard bread, to nourish the inner man, and were soon in line
for our departure, but the usual delays incident to such an occasion
kept us in line about three hours. 5 o’clock came, and with it the
order to “Forward, march.” The band struck up “The gal I left behind
me,” and we marched through the rain and mud to Belle Dock. The rain
did not dampen the ardor of the boys nor decrease the patriotism of
the citizens of the Elm City. Handkerchiefs from fair ones waved us
adieu; men shouted “God bless the boys,” together with the martial
music of the band to increase the enthusiasm, made our departure from
New Haven pleasant to contemplate. Pleasant, from the fact that we
felt that the prayers and best wishes of our good people would go with
us, as incentives to noble principles and holy action. We embarked on
the steamer Elm City and soon stretched ourselves on the several decks
and in the cabin, glad enough for a chance to rest ourselves, for the
rain had drenched us through to the skin. The boat left her moorings
at 8 o’clock, and when we awoke we found ourselves alongside the dock
at Jersey City. For some unknown reason we did not disembark till
about noon. At 2 P. M. we left by rail for the capital of the nation.
Arriving at Philadelphia we were entertained at the Union Refreshment
Rooms with a bountiful collation, which was indeed refreshing to the
inner man, and it also gave evidence of a large stock of loyalty on
the part of the good people of that city. Every regiment passing through
the city were made heartily welcome to their hospitality, and none
will ever forget the hearty cheers and the “God speed” which was heard
on every hand.
Leaving Philadelphia, our next stopping place was at Perryville, where
we arrived at 8 o’clock in the evening. We were delayed here about two
hours, and were then ferried across the river to Havre-de-Grace, when
we again started by rail for Baltimore, arriving there at 10 P. M. No
cheers for the Union soldier startled our ears at this place. No
demonstration of delight at our arrival, but all seemed sullen, and
their actions showed more of a secession spirit than otherwise. We
were ordered to fix bayonets before we crossed the city, for the
memory of the Massachusetts Sixth who had preceded us was not
forgotten, and a repetition of those scenes would not have found us
unprepared. The spilled blood of the Massachusetts Sixth will ever be
a stain upon the records of the Monumental City while this generation
inhabits this mundane sphere.
We crossed the city to the depot where we found cars waiting to
transport us to Washington. We were huddled aboard cars that we
understood were used to transport cattle the day previous, and we had
no reason to disbelieve the report, for the muck and filth covered the
floors to such a depth that anything short of a pair of Uncle Sam’s
“tan-yards” would have been lost sight of in a short time. However,
we accepted the situation, believing that it all made up the three
years of a soldier’s life. We arrived in Washington on the 19th, at 6
o’clock in the morning, very much fatigued by our wearisome ride in
the cattle cars, wishing, longing, hoping, for what the soldier calls
“a good square meal.” We expected Washington would not be behind
Philadelphia in this respect, and after stacking our arms and waiting
patiently for about two hours our ears were startled by that sound so
welcome to every soldier, “Fall in for rations.” They marched us into
a building having a sign over the door reading “Soldiers’ Retreat.”
Visions of cold ham and soft bread appeared unto us, and that
beverage, which always cheers but does not inebriate, we thought we
smelt afar off; but alas, for a soldier’s hopes. What a sight greeted
our eyes as we filed into that building. Three long rows of tables,
running the length of the building, were piled up with chunks of half
boiled pork which looked as if they had been cut from the hog when
just killed, for the bristles were long enough to lift up each piece
by. A quantity of stale and musty bread and some very muddy coffee,
completed our bill of fare. We had not anticipated such a re-treat as
this; however, we felt that it was nothing like getting used to these
things, and we did retreat and got our breakfast at the eating houses.
We had a few hours to see the sights of the city, and improved them
by a visit to the Capitol and House of Representatives, also the
Senate chamber, where some of the boys sat down in the chair which
Jeff. Davis had vacated, just to see how it would seem. Others made
impromptu speeches on the great questions which were agitating our
country.
The camp which was assigned to us was out to Meridian Hill, about four
miles from the capitol, and thither we marched and pitched our tents,
and were quite willing to enjoy a comfortable snooze when the drums
beat the tatoo.
The Sixth was brigaded with the Fourth and Seventh New Hampshire and
the Seventh Connecticut, which arrived the next day, all under command
of Brig. Gen. H. G. Wright.
A member of Co. “B” was taken ill when but a few days in camp, and was
removed to Columbia Hospital, where he died of congestion of the brain
on the 26th of September. This was the first death since our
organization. Death claimed another victim in a member of Co. “F,”
Theodore Gibbons by name. He died on the 7th of October.
The twenty days of our camp life in Washington was one unceasing
drill: morning drills by the sergeants, before breakfast; company
drill after that meal was over; then the brigade drill after dinner,
taken with our other duties, made our time pretty much all occupied.
We began to see in these extra duties the inner life of a soldier, and
our proficiency in drill was manifest from day to day, yet as we heard
of the clash of war and read the accounts of skirmishes, we longed to
be at the front where we might participate in those stirring scenes.
Several times during our camp life here, we were called into line and
extra rounds of cartridges given us, with the orders to hold ourselves
in readiness to move at a moment’s notice, but as often dismissed to
await the next call.
On the 8th day of October we left Washington by rail for Annapolis,
Maryland, and arrived there after a wearisome ride of twelve hours. We
were quartered in the Navy Yard for a few days, which gave us an
opportunity of seeing a few of the relics of the war of 1812. Many
ancient looking swords, old flintlock muskets and wooden canteens were
among the collection. A few days passed and we went outside the town
and pitched our tents near a grove of fine old trees, where we might
have better facilities for drilling, &c. We were inspected several
times by prominent officers of the regular army, which gave evidence
of some movement or other on foot, and a short time elapsed ere it was
noised abroad that we were going on an expedition.
The 19th of October found us all packed up and tramping up the
gang-planks of the steamers to sail on the great expedition, with
sealed orders, under Gen. Sherman. The right wing of our regiment was
assigned to the steamship Marion, the left wing to the steamer
Parkersburg. There were seventeen regiments in all, and thirty-three
steam transports to hold us, besides quite a fleet of gunboats, made
up the entire fleet. Such formidable looking boats presented to our
vision, gave evidence of something else beside a mere excursion. We
knew that hard work and fighting were before us and that only a few
days would elapse ere we should see the rebel soil.
Weighing anchor, we passed down the bay to Hampton Roads, Va., where
we remained several days, waiting like Micawber, for something to turn
up. Finally, the union jack gave the signal for sailing, and glad
enough were we at the prospect of soon being able to step on terra
firma once more. Two days out from Hampton Roads we experienced a
terrible storm at sea, and for several hours the prospects of seeing
anything but a broken wreck and finding a watery grave, were
exceedingly dubious. Wave after wave poured over us. The hatches were
fastened and everything on deck was lashed tight to prevent being
washed away. The red glare of the lightning, with the terrific peals
of thunder, made the scene awfully grand. Now in the trough of the sea
and another moment upon the crest of the waves, with all on board
terribly sea-sick, was a picture not very pleasant to dwell upon. Our
fleet became scattered and two vessels were sunk; others had horses
washed overboard; while another was forced to throw into the deep her
entire armament, which consisted of some improved guns which we
expected would do some very effective service. A merciful Providence
permitted us to outride the storm and once more see the scattered
fleet all together again, save those that went to the bottom. Many a
prayer of thankfulness went up to God for our safe deliverance from
such a storm.
A day or two of pleasant sailing brought us at anchor in the harbor of
Port Royal, South Carolina, with two very formidable looking rebel
batteries on either side of the harbor. Here we saw that our mission
was to reduce these works and gain a foothold on South Carolina soil.
The rebel soldiers gazed at us from their strongholds, and two very
scaly looking gunboats ventured down from their hiding place a short
distance above the batteries, and sent us their compliments in the
shape of a few shells for about the space of half an hour, but with no
damage to our fleet; but as soon as one of Uncle Sam’s boats gave them
a few messengers of war, they were glad enough to change front to the
rear and troubled us no more that day.