THE REGIMENT GOES HOME ON VETERAN FURLOUGH. INTERVIEW WITH GEN. W. T.
SHERMAN AFTER THE WAR. A SHORT TOUR OF SOLDIERING AT CHESTER, ILLINOIS.
AUGUST, SEPTEMBER, OCTOBER, 1864.
After our return from the Clarendon affair, we remained in camp at
Devall's Bluff, where nothing more important occurred than drilling,
reviews, inspections, and the like. The summer was rapidly passing
away, and still the regiment had not received the 30-day furlough
promised us when we veteranized. Nearly all the other regiments in the
department that had re-enlisted had received theirs, and it looked as
if the poor old 61st Illinois had been "lost in the shuffle." The boys
began to get a little impatient about this, and somewhat disposed to
grumble, which was only natural. But on August 8th the paymaster made
us a visit, paid us six months' pay and our veteran bounty, and then
the prospect for the furlough began to brighten, and we were assured by
our officers that we had not much longer to wait. And sure enough, on
August 14th we started home. We left the recruits and non-veterans at
Devall's Bluff, to which we expected to return on the expiration of our
furlough, but the Fates willed otherwise, as will be seen later. When
we filed on board the steamboat that August morning, the old regiment,
as an organization, was leaving Arkansas forever.
I will say here that I have always regretted, and shall regret as long
as I live, that after the capture of Vicksburg, the regiment happened
to get switched off into Arkansas. We thereby were taken away from the
big armies, and out of the main currents of the war, where great deeds
were being done, and history made. Of course we couldn't help it; we
had no choice; and, as I have remarked before, the common soldier can
only do what those in authority direct. As connected with this subject,
I will here tell the story of a little conversation I had with Gen. W.
T. Sherman, at his office in Washington in February, 1883. I had gone
to that city on a business matter, and while there met Col. P. B.
Plumb, then one of the senators from Kansas. In the course of our
conversation he asked if there were any of the "big bugs" in Washington
I wanted to see,--if so, he would be glad to take me around and
introduce me. I replied that there were only two; that just as a matter
of curiosity I would like to see President Arthur, but I really was
very desirous of having a little visit with Gen. Sherman. Plumb
laughed, said that my desires were modest, and made a date with me when
he would take me to see the President and Gen. Sherman. At the time
appointed we went, first to the White House, where we met the
President. I shook hands with him, and after a few commonplace remarks,
retired to the background. The President and Plumb talked a minute or
two about some public matter, and then we left. "Now," said Plumb,
"we'll go and see 'Uncle Billy'." Sherman was then the General of the
Army, and had his office, as I now remember, in the War Department
building, near the White House. On entering his office, we found him
seated at a desk, writing. I had seen him previously several times, but
had no acquaintance with him whatever. Plumb introduced me to him,
saying, as he gave my name, that I was one of his "boys." The General
dropped his pen, shook hands with me heartily, and at once began
talking. I think he was the most interesting talker I ever have known.
He had lived a life of incessant activity, had done great things, and
had mingled with great men, hence he was never at a loss for an
engaging topic. After a while the monologue lulled, and gave me the
opportunity for which I had been patiently waiting. "General," I began,
"there is an incident connected with your military career during the
Civil War that I have wanted for some time to speak to you about, and,
if agreeable, will do so now." "Huh," said he, "what is it?" It was
interesting, and a little amusing to me at the time, to see the
instantaneous change that came over him. His face darkened, his eyes
contracted, and a scowl appeared on his brow. His appearance and manner
said, almost as plain as words: "Now here's a smart young Aleck, who
never had a greater command than a picket post of three men, who is
going to tell me how he thinks I should have fought a battle."
Resuming, I said: "Some years ago I read Gen. Badeau's 'Life of Grant,'
and found published therein a letter from Gen. Grant to you, written
some time in the fall of 1863, when you were marching across the
country from Memphis to reinforce him at Chattanooga, in which Grant
said, in substance, 'Urge on Steele the necessity of sending you
Kimball's division of the Sixteenth Corps.'[2] General," said I, "that
meant us; it meant me; for my regiment was in Kimball's division, with
Gen. Steele, in Arkansas. Now my point is, I am afraid that you didn't
'urge' Steele strongly enough, for we never got to you, and," I
continued (in a tone of deep and sincere earnestness), "consequently we
missed Missionary Ridge, the campaign of Atlanta, the March to the Sea,
and the campaign of the Carolinas,--and I shall regret it as long as I
live!" I noted with interest the change in the old General's
countenance as I made my little speech. His face lighted up, his eyes
sparkled, the scowl disappeared, and when I concluded he laughed
heartily. "Didn't need you; didn't need you," he said; "had men
enough,--and, let me tell you,--Steele needed every d--d man he had."
It was quite evident that the General enjoyed the recital of my little
alleged grievance, and he launched into a most interesting account of
some incidents connected with the campaigns I had mentioned. I became
fearful that I was imposing on his good nature, and two or three times
started to leave. But with a word or gesture he would detain me, and
keep talking. And when I finally did depart, he followed me out into
the hall, and laying his hand on my shoulder in a most fatherly way,
said, "Say! Whenever you are in Washington, come and see me! Don't be
afraid! I like to see and talk with you boys!" and with a hearty shake
of the hand he bade me good-by. He was a grand old man, and we common
soldiers of the western armies loved him.
[2] See "Military History of Ulysses S. Grant," by Adam Badeau,
Vol. 1, page 456.
In going home on our veteran furlough, the regiment went by steamer
down White river, thence up the Mississippi to Cairo, where we debarked
and took the cars, and went to Springfield, Illinois, arriving there
August 24th. The Mississippi was low, and our progress up the river was
very slow. Two or three times our boat grounded on bars, and after
trying in vain to "spar off," had to wait until some other boat came
along, and pulled us off by main strength. Near Friar's Point, not far
below Helena, where there was a long, shallow bar, the captain of the
steamer took the precaution to lighten his boat by landing us all on
the west bank of the river, and we walked along the river's margin for
two or three miles to the head of the bar, where the boat came to the
shore, and took us on again. Our officers assured us that our thirty
days furlough would not begin until the day we arrived at Springfield,
so these delays did not worry us, and we endured them with much
composure.
On this entire homeward trip, on account of a matter that was purely
personal, I was in a state of nervous uneasiness and anxiety nearly all
the time. As heretofore stated, just a few days before starting home we
were paid six months' pay, and our veteran bounty, the amount I
received being $342.70. Several of the recruits and non-veterans whose
homes were in my neighborhood gave me different amounts that had been
paid them, with the request that I take this money home and hand it to
their fathers, or other persons they designated. So, when we started, I
had the most money on my person I ever had had before, and even since.
The exact amount is now forgotten, but it was something over fifteen
hundred dollars. Of nights I slept on the hurricane deck of the boat,
with the other boys, and in the day time was mingling constantly with
the enlisted men, and with all that money in my pocket. Of course, I
said nothing about it, and had cautioned the boys who trusted me with
this business also to say nothing, but whether they had all complied
with my request I didn't know. I kept the money (which, except a little
postal currency, was all in greenbacks) in my inside jacket pocket
during the day time, didn't take off my trousers at night, and then
stowed the bills on my person at a place--well, if a prowling hand had
invaded the locality, it would have waked me quick! But I finally got
home with all the money intact, duly paid the trust funds over to the
proper parties, and then felt greatly relieved.
When the regiment arrived at Springfield we stored our muskets and
accouterments in a public building, and then dispersed for our
respective homes. I arrived at the Stillwell home the following day,
August 25th, and received a hearty welcome.
But the admission must be made that I didn't enjoy this furlough near
as much as the individual one of the preceding autumn, for reasons I
will state. You see, we were all at home now, that is, the veterans,
and there were several hundred of us, and it seemed as if the citizens
thought that they must do everything in their power to show how much
they appreciated us. So there was something going on nearly all the
time; parties, oyster suppers, and gatherings of all sorts. There was a
big picnic affair held in the woods at the Sansom Spring which was
attended by a crowd of people. A lawyer came down from Jerseyville and
made us a long speech on this occasion, in which he refreshed our
recollection as to our brave deeds and patriotic services in battle,
and in camp and field generally, which was doubtless very fine. It is
true, I spent several very happy days at home, with my own folks, but
they were frequently broken in on by the neighbors, coming and going,
who wanted to see and talk with "Leander." And the girls! bless their
hearts! They were fairly ready to just fall down and worship us. But I
was young, awkward, and exceedingly bashful, and can now see clearly
that I didn't respond to their friendly attentions with the same
alacrity and heartiness that would have obtained had I been, say, ten
years older. The French have a proverb with a world of meaning in it,
something like this: "If youth but knew--if old age could!" But
probably it is best as it is.
[Illustration: S. P. Ohr
Lieut. Colonel, 61st Illinois Infantry.]
When home on our veteran furlough a sad event occurred which directly
affected the regiment, and which it can be truly said every member
thereof sincerely deplored. This was the death of Lieut. Col. Simon P.
Ohr. He never was a strong man, physically, and the hardships and
exposures incident to army life were really the cause of his death. He
died at his home, in Carrollton, Illinois, of a bronchial affection, on
September 14th, 1864. He was a man of temperate habits, honest and
upright, and a sterling patriot. As an officer, he was kind, careful as
to the wants and necessities of his men, and in battle, cool,
clear-headed, and brave. In due course of time Maj. Daniel Grass was
appointed to the office of Lieutenant-Colonel, to fill the vacancy thus
created by the lamented death of Col. Ohr.
The regiment rendezvoused at Springfield on September 26th, and left on
the next day, on the cars, went to St. Louis, and were quartered in the
Hickory Street Barracks, in the city. Another "Price Raid" was now on.
Only a few days previously Gen. Sterling Price with a strong force,
including, of course, Shelby's cavalry, entered southeast Missouri, and
the day we arrived at St. Louis he showed up at Pilot Knob, only about
85 miles south of the city, where some sharp fighting occurred. There
was now the biggest kind of a "scare" prevailing in St. Louis, and,
judging from all the talk one heard, we were liable to hear the thunder
of Price's cannon on the outskirts of St. Louis any day. We had been at
Hickory Street Barracks only a day or two, when my company, and
companies B and G, were detached from the regiment, embarked on a
steamboat, and went down the Mississippi to the town of Chester,
Illinois, which is situated on the Mississippi, at the mouth of the
Kaskaskia river. We were sent here for the purpose, as we understood at
the time, of guarding the crossing of the Mississippi at this place,
and to prevent any predatory Confederate raid in that vicinity. We were
quartered in some large vacant warehouses near the river, and had no
guard duty to perform except a guard at the ferry landing, and a small
one over our commissary stores. Altogether, it was the "softest" piece
of soldiering that fell to my lot during all my service. We had roofs
over our heads and slept at night where it was dry and warm, it was
ideal autumn weather, and we just idled around, careless, contented,
and happy. One lovely October day Bill Banfield and I in some way got a
skiff, and early in the morning rowed over the river to the Missouri
side, and spent the day there, strolling about in the woods. The
country was wild and rough, and practically in a state of nature. We
confined our rambling to the river bottom, which was broad and
extensive, and densely covered with a primeval forest. Some of the
trees, especially the sycamores and the cottonwoods, were of giant
size. And the woods abounded in nuts and wild fruits; hickory nuts,
walnuts, pecans, pawpaws, big wild grapes,--and persimmons, but the
latter were not yet ripe. This locality was in Perry County, Missouri,
and it seemed to be destitute of inhabitants; we saw two or three log
cabins, but they were old, decayed, and deserted. We had brought some
bacon and hardtack with us in our haversacks, and at noon built a fire
and had an army dinner, with nuts and fruit for dessert. We got back to
Chester about sundown, having had a most interesting and delightful
time.
There was another little incident that happened while we were at
Chester, which I have always remembered with pleasure. Between
companies D and G of our regiment was a strong bond of friendship. Many
of the boys of the two companies had lived in the same neighborhood at
home, and were acquainted with each other before enlisting. The first
sergeant of G was Pressley T. Rice, a grown man, and some five or six
years my senior. He came to me one day soon after our arrival at
Chester, and in his peculiar nasal tone said: "Stillwell, some of my
boys think that when we are soldiering here in 'God's Country,' they
ought to have soft bread to eat. If 'D' feels the same, let's go down
to the mill, and buy a barrel of flour for each company, and give the
boys a rest on hardtack." I heartily assented, but asked what should we
do about paying for it, as the boys were now pretty generally strapped.
Press responded that we'd get the flour "on tick," and settle for it at
our next pay day. To my inquiry if we should take Company B in on the
deal (the other company with us at Chester), Press dryly responded that
B could root for themselves; that this was a "cahootnership" of D and G
only. Without further ceremony we went to the mill, which was a
fair-sized concern, and situated, as I now remember, in the lower part
of the town, and near the river bank. We found one of the proprietors,
and Press made known to him our business, in words substantially the
same as he had used in broaching the matter to me, with some little
additional explanation. He told the miller that the only bread we had
was hardtack, that the boys accepted that cheerfully when we were down
South, but that here in "God's Country," in our home State of Illinois,
they thought they were entitled to "soft bread," so we had come to him
to buy two barrels of flour; that the boys had not the money now to pay
for it, but at our next pay day they would, and we would see to it that
the money should be sent him. While thus talking, the miller looked at
us with "narrowed eyes," and, as it seemed to me, didn't feel a bit
delighted with the proposition. But maybe he thought that if he didn't
sell us the flour, we might take it anyhow, so, making a virtue of
necessity, he said he would let us have it, the price of the two
barrels being, as I now remember, seven dollars. I produced my little
memorandum book, and requested him to write the name and address of his
firm therein, which he did, in pen and ink, and it is there yet, in
that same little old book, now lying open before me, and reads as
follows:
"H. C. Cole & Co.,
Chester, Ill."
Well, he sent us the flour, and D and G had soft bread the balance of
the time we were at Chester.
I will now anticipate a few months, in order to finish the account of
this incident. The spring of 1865 found the regiment at Franklin,
Tennessee, and while there the paymaster made us a welcome visit. I
then went to Press Rice, and suggested to him that the time had now
come for us to pay the Chester miller for his flour, and he said he
thought so too. We sat down at the foot of a tree and made out a list
of all the boys of our respective companies who, at Chester, helped eat
the bread made from the flour, and who were yet with us, and then
assessed each one with the proper sum he should contribute, in order to
raise the entire amount required. Of course the boys paid it
cheerfully. Press turned over to me the proportionate sum of his
company, and requested me to attend to the rest of the business, which
I did. I wrote a letter to the firm of H. C. Cole & Co., calling their
attention to the fact of our purchase from them of two barrels of flour
in October of the previous year, and then went on to say that several
of the boys who had taken part in eating the bread made from this flour
had since then been killed in battle, or died of diseases incident to a
soldier's life, but there were yet enough of us left to pay them for
their flour, and that I here inclosed the proper sum. (I have forgotten
in just what manner or form it was sent, but think it was by express.)
In due course of time I received an answer, acknowledging receipt of
the money, written in a very kind and complimentary vein. After
heartily thanking us for the payment, the letter went on to state that
in all the business dealings of H. C. Cole & Co. with Union soldiers
the firm had been treated with fairness and remarkable honesty, and
they sincerely appreciated it.
Many years later out in Kansas I met a man who had lived in Chester
during the war, and told him the foregoing little story. He said he
knew the milling firm of Cole & Co. quite well, and that during the war
they were most intense and bitter Copperheads, and had no use whatever
for "Lincoln hirelings," as Union soldiers were sometimes called by the
"Butternut" element. My informant was a respectable, truthful man, so
it is probable that his statement was correct. It served to throw some
light on the grim conduct of the miller with whom Press and I dealt.
But they treated us well, and if they were of the type above indicated,
it is hoped that the little experience with us may have caused them to
have a somewhat kindlier feeling for Union soldiers than the one they
may have previously entertained.