The writer, the youngest of four brothers, was mustered into the
volunteer service, Aug. 5, 1862, at the age of 16 years, having been
rejected the year before on account of age and an over supply of men.
His regiment, the Twenty-second Mass. Vol. Infantry (Henry Wilson
Regiment), was a fighting regiment from Boston and vicinity. Only 45
Union Infantry regiments lost 200 and upwards in killed and died of
wounds on the field during the Civil War. The Twenty-second lost 216 and
stands 27 in that list. In a list of all Union Infantry regiments that
lost over 10 per cent in killed on the field, it stands number 13--with
a percentage of 15.5 per cent--and, based upon a maximum percentage of
enrollment (1393 men), it stands number 16--("Fox's Regimental
Losses")-- Its service was in the First Brigade--First Division--Fifth
Corps, Army of the Potomac. We recruits arrived on Arlington Heights to
join this fighting regiment, en route (whereabouts not located) from the
"seven days' battles" on the Peninsula. The officer in charge of us had
given us no drills--no training of any kind. He was returning from
leave, and spent most of his time _rusticating_ around the "Old
Willard". We joined the regiment at Halls Hill, Va. (near Falls Church),
bivouacked in a battle line as it was marching into the defences of
W---- from the second battle of Bull Run. The noise of battle was on; a
spluttering picket firing was in evidence a few hundred yards from us.
During our stay here of two days--a first class drill sergeant gave us
an hour each day in the "facings" and the use of our guns, which had
been issued to us at midnight of Aug. 29--in a terrific thunder storm,
during which we were soaked--and in a bivouac without shelter. This
consisted of instructions in taking them apart, cleaning, assembling,
rapid loading and sighting. We remained in reserve in the fortifications
of Washington, marching hither and thither until Sept. 12--when we
started, in a temperature of 98 deg., after a drenching night's storm, on
the Antietam Campaign-- There was no time for further training. We were
put on the battle line--sandwiched between our Peninsula veterans of
seven battles. The lines were so close that our range was practically
point blank. There was no adjustment of sights--no wind guages--none of
the usual methods for work on a target range. It made little difference
whether the trajectory was flat or otherwise. Any boy who had ever used
a shot gun could load and blaze away into the close lines. The line
officers and file closers were veterans. The battle discipline was
flawless-- We touched elbows with men who had acquired the battle sense
and instinct in the hell of rifle fire--shell--shrapnel and close up
canister guns of the 12 pdr Napoleon type. A few days after a bloody
reconnoissance across the river, in which one of our regiments lost 289
men killed, wounded and missing in 20 minutes, we had a few days'
drill--and that _was all we ever got_. We were as good soldiers as ever
marched the roads or ever went in under our battle flags--at
Fredericksburg--Chancellorsville, Gettysburg--and on to the Seige of
Petersburg. We needed no long, drawn-out intensive training--because
there was no time to give it to us-- Our superb officers all recognized
that--and, as soon as we had got our _balance_, and recovered from the
battle shock--we fitted into the bloody game of war without any waste of
time, effort or lost motion. Our manual of arms would not have undergone
the critical scrutiny of a "_yearling Corporal_" at West Point--or a
"color man" "throwing up" for colors at guard mount--nor would our crude
attempts have excited much pride in the tactical officers at a perfect
West Point dress parade. Our shooting in the open at from 150 to 500
yards might also have aroused the merry laugh of a target range
sharpshooter with all of his implements for making a record score. But
we were _not striving_ for a _record score_--just shooting into massed
formations and closed up battle lines to kill--and we got there just the
same with the official record as cited. That record tells the story-- At
midnight on May 8, 1864, near Spottsylvania C. H., in a hand to hand
fight with the Sixth Alabama, the regiment captured their colors and
more prisoners than were in the ranks of the Twenty-second
Massachusetts. Two of these brothers, on account of their youth, refused
commissions, although their father, who had spent two years at the Mil.
Academy in the class of 1836, was then Chairman of the Mil. Com. of the
Mass. Senate; was in daily conference with John A. Andrew, the great war
Governor--and could, by a "pull" have easily secured them. One was
"specially commended" for good conduct at the Battle of Fredericksburg,
Va., while the other untrained brother, (Walter Carter) as Sergeant
Major of the regiment, was specially mentioned in the report of the
Commanding officer of the regiment for "_coolness under fire_, and
_personal bravery in all battles of the campaign_"; (Reb.
Rec--Ser--I--40: 459) this Campaign, May 4 to June 18--1864--from the
Wilderness--Laurel Hill--Spottsylvania C. H. (May 8-22--under fire day
and night), Jericho Mills--North Anna, Totopotomoy Creek, Bethesda
Church--Cold Harbor--Jerusalem Plank Road (Norfolk and Petersburg R
R--later, the spot where the Battle of the "_Crater_" was fought). If
there was ever any better soldier than this untrained but not
_world-advertised_ Sergeant-Major of one of the best fighting regiments
in the Army of the Potomac--the writer, in nearly 60 years since those
old days, has not met him. On May 10, 1864, while acting as liaison
officer for the Major--commanding the left wing of the regiment, which
was cut off from the right wing and in a cul de sac swept by a frightful
cross fire--he was directed to cross the Brock Road (about a mile or
more from Spottsylvania C. H.) and communicate to the Colonel the
perilous position of the left wing. He crossed this sunken road--swept
by rifle and canister fire, at close range. His blanket roll was cut in
several places; his eye was burned and closed by a _hot bullet_--for
several days-- The next morning he took in on his back, from a rifle pit
to save his life, a wounded comrade and friend under fire. Being a
non-commissioned officer, he received no brevets--no medal of honor--no
Legion of Honor, or Croix de Guerre--etc. So much for this
battle-trained, but not _intensively_ trained--volunteer Sergeant-Major
of an Infantry fighting regiment in the old battle swept Army of our
youth. And he wears nothing to indicate his record of valor--not even
the "Little Bronze Button" of the G. A. R.; nothing more than the
satisfaction or consciousness of having done well his part in helping to
preserve the Union and making it possible for the present generation of
soldiers to have a country in which to exist, and looking on with a
certain degree of smug complacency at the smiling assurance with which
these present day trainers of men declare that it takes from six months
to a year, or even more, to fit the average American boy to be an
effective battle-service soldier-- So much for this so called
"_Intensive Training_" as a fine art.
The writer trained for three boat races at West Point in the '60s,
rowing as "stroke" in one. He was urged to take up "_intensive
training_" in the gymnasium. He did nothing of the kind, but simply used
the dumb bells and Indian Clubs in his room to limber up and harden the
muscles, and after a morning plunge, took a brisk walk and run of about
two miles every morning for wind. There was no "training table", and he
simply took care not to take on any extra flesh when eating the "hash"
and "Slumgullion" of our plainest of plain Mess Hall fare. We consulted
the famous Ward brothers of Cornwall-on-Hudson--"Hank", "Josh" and
"Ellis" (who has been a famous Coach for years) as to our style and
effectiveness of stroke. They were simple Hudson river shad
fishermen--long, lean, lank and spare as greyhounds, sinewy as whip
cord--and as hard as steel nails-- Every muscle was taut and tense as a
racing oarsman's should be. I doubt if they ever saw the inside of a
gymnasium--and laughed to scorn the idea that they had got to train in
one. Rowing all day, for months, had, without developing their muscles
into Sandow monstrosities--hardened them like steel--and they were,
after pulling a long, swinging stroke, with quick recover, ready at all
times to row for their lives. I do not recall of their ever being
defeated--either abroad or in our own waters. _They were our trainers._
They were the finest oarsmen America ever produced. The writer saw them
row the Harvard "Varsity" crew on the Charles River, and after passing
them as though they were almost standing still, play with them and
"_loaf home_". William Blaikie, Harvard's famous stroke, and later their
professional "Coach," wrote after graduation, a book, "How to Get
Strong". He advocated the gymnasium--the fatal trainer's paradise that
has killed so many men. He died, when he had just passed his 50th year,
of dilation of the heart superinduced by _intensive training_. He
believed in enormous muscles and brute strength, rather than skill,
endurance, and good form. He had overtrained and had an overworked
heart. The writer was pitted against a man who was almost a duplicate of
Sandow. He could have pitched me over his head. He could, with a twist
of his immense arms, break a spruce oar in a racing shell. When the last
few boat lengths of the long three miles loomed up--and victory for him
was almost in sight--his sand gave out--his heart was almost broken and
he lay down and threw up the sponge in defeat. He was "pumped out"; he
had overtrained and "gone stale". He pulled "too much beef", and lacked
the courage--sand--nerve and guts that wins at the most critical moment.
He weighed 180 pounds. He could have been better utilized as a battering
ram on a foot ball team to fall down upon some smaller player and break
his back or neck. Our stroke weighed 140 pounds. Some men may train for
a prize fight until they can run 15 miles without breathing hard, and
then, inside of three or four minutes after entering the ring begin
wheezing like an old wind-broken horse. This is due to a _nervous
contraction_ of the pulmonary region, caused generally by nervous
fright. They are too tense and rigid to fight effectively. The writer
has seen the same thing in battle with over trained men--perfectly
tense, dazed--almost speechless--from fright and nerve shock alone
before they could get it under control. This does not imply that they
were cowards-- A man's supreme or best mental and physical efforts does
not depend upon his size, his huge muscles abnormally developed by a
long period of intensive training, or through his intellectuality
acquired by years of school, college and university education, but,
largely through the _spirit_, _force_, _courage_, _discipline_ and
_morale_ which are behind his purpose--that purpose which must furnish
the mainspring of his action.
This refers particularly to the soldier in his _intelligent_ (and by
this the writer does not mean the intellectual) application of that
power and those resources to the actual conditions of the problem with
which he is hourly, even momentarily, confronted when on a battle line
under the hell of fire. This he has got to face, not as a highly
organized or perfectly educated human being, trained, or over trained to
the last limit for a specific purpose, but, on his _individual
initiative_, and his _combative instincts_ or _fighting senses_--without
which no highly educated or purely intellectual human machine could long
withstand the strain, for, until a man goes in under fire he cannot
know, or even guess at his power and resources--his balance and morale
which iron discipline combined with moderate, common sense training
alone has inspired.
Many a soldier has gone into battle, and proved his bravery and battle
efficiency under fire, without being a highly intellectual or even an
educated man, and with no previous training that approaches any where
near perfection, or that was given in these Cantonments, or, with any
other feeling or inspiration than the patriotic motive which has led him
to fight for a great principle, or the incentive in the performance of a
duty in strict obedience to the orders of his superior officers who, if
they are true, and loyal leaders, with the right stuff in them, will
supply all the deficiencies that any long drawn-out intensive training
so often fails in.
It is now that his _real intensive training_ has begun without his
spirit and enthusiasm having become impaired, and he is better able to
fully grasp its meaning than he would had it been daily, weekly and
monthly crammed down his throat by rule, and by some theoretical trainer
who had never seen a battle field--never been on one--or under fire, and
who would scarcely know one if he should see it.
Our intensive training in most of these cantonments was begun backwards.
Teaching men to shoot--and to shoot straight, preferably under
conditions of noise, after a few days--closely simulating a real
battleracket--is much more effectual as a starter--after he has been
taught to knock down, clean, assemble and quickly load his rifle--and
the proper use of it, than a manual of arms "by the count" (as the
writer saw it) or any attempt at a perfect knowledge of the intricacies
of the School of the Company, etc.
A man, unless he has been designated as a sharpshooter, or for
"sniping"--or, has been ordered to remain under permanent or
semi-permanent trench cover--is not satisfied to fight at from 1000 to
1200 yards--the range of a high power rifle,--for, under most
atmospheric conditions and when in the smoke and confusion of battle, he
cannot pick up his target, or see the object aimed at, or determine
whether his fire is effective, therefore he is going to push forward to
from 300 to 500 _yards_--the range of our old muzzle loading
Springfield rifles. There, _in the open_ he can see the enemy he is
fighting--almost the whites of his eyes--and how effective his fire
should be. _There is the place to fight_--and that was where our
American lads after the Hindenberg lines were destroyed--or turned--and
the Huns were driven out into open ground--in their forward rushes--were
so effective in cleaning and mopping up the best troops Germany had.
They could not resist close fighting. They had not been trained that
way, and we ought not to dream even of training our men in _long
range_--_trench cover fighting_--except under certain conditions which
are clearly indicated. Circumstances will govern those conditions.