Major-General MEADE.
S. WILLIAMS, A.A.G.
On the eve of our departure homeward there were signs in camp of a mail
having arrived with news from home. Beside the usual precious gift of
letters there flamed out from the persons of many of the
fellows--especially the younger men, quite an assortment of patriotic
and other symbols. One flaunted a pretty tri-color, jauntily pinned on
the breast of his coat, evidently just extracted from a dainty looking
letter which he was reading. Ah, I fear me, the delicate thought of a
sweetheart thrilled in that bosom, while coarser eyes only saw
fluttering on the outside a tiny badge of red, white and blue. Another
sported a miniature flag in the form of a pin; and other devices there
were according to the fancy of the fair correspondent. Did these highly
favored fellows know, I wonder, through what tribulations these
precious messages had passed to reach their hands? All knew how, owing
to our constant and rapid marches, and the impracticable condition of
the roads, we had been deprived, ever since we left Harrisburg, of all
means of communicating with home except as accident provided. The
chaplain of the Twenty-Third interested himself in forwarding our
letters whenever there seemed to be a reasonable chance of getting them
through. But we were all indebted more than once to the energy and
kindness of a gentleman of New York, not connected with any of the
regiments, for tidings from home and for the opportunity of sending
return letters.[5]
[5] As this gentleman[5-1] in making his way to join us went over
much the same ground that we did, his observations are
interesting as showing how things looked in our wake. His
adventures, moreover, are full of entertainment as well on
account of their novelty and freshness as for the remarkable
energy displayed in overcoming obstacles that would have appalled
most men.
[5-1] JOHN H. TRIPLER, Esq.
On the fifth of July he obtained after great difficulty a pass to
cross the bridge at Harrisburg; and having reached Carlisle the
same afternoon by the cars, set out with one or two others on
foot to overtake the column. At Papertown they halted for the
night at a deserted house, where they found "some soldiers
sitting around on the floor eating bread and molasses by the
light of a dilapidated tallow candle." Next morning they entered
upon the mountain road leading to Laurel Forge, which they found
still nearly impassable. In the words of the narrator, "It was
nothing but mud, mud, of the worst kind. Thus we travelled for
many weary miles till we came to where a number of the
Thirty-Seventh Regiment had been encamped with their teams. The
road grew worse as we proceeded. We began now to pass a good many
stragglers and wagons, some of them stuck in the mud, the
soldiers with ropes assisting the horses to get through the
well-nigh impassable mire. We came to a wagon that had broken
down, belonging to the Thirty-Seventh, and found in it a barrel
of hard-tack from which we filled our handkerchiefs and ate along
the way, soaking it in the brooks to make it easier for our
molars. We were told for our encouragement that the further we
proceeded the less chance we would have of getting anything to
eat; and we found it so. We had not gone far before we came
across some hungry soldiers who gladly took some of our
crackers." Our travellers were lucky enough to find a roof to
sleep under that night but had to go to bed supperless.
"On Tuesday morning we proceeded on our way hungry, being unable
to procure breakfast: the poor man who gave us lodging having
been robbed by the rebels, who had not left him enough for his
own family. The roads being here lined with cherry trees, we
followed the example of the soldiers and satisfied the cravings
of appetite with this refreshing fruit. ** We at length reached
Cashtown, where we found the main body of our New York and
Brooklyn regiments encamped. ** We found a great many had letters
to send home, which we volunteered to carry, there being no
regular way of sending them. They soon had us pretty heavily
laden; so with a soldier's haversack over each shoulder we
marched along with the column when it moved."
At Altodale our friend "after getting all the letters for New
York" took final leave of us, and started alone to return.
Thinking he might be molested on the road at night--for he meant
to travel the greatest number of hours that his strength would
permit--he armed himself with a pass from head-quarters. "I
left," he continues, "about half-past eight o'clock in the
evening intending to go as far as possible before resting. But
the night being dark, there being some danger of falling into the
hands of the rebels, and the few straggling soldiers with whom I
was in company not being willing to proceed further, I concluded
to halt at the first house I came to. I was up in the night
several times from anxiety of mind, and about two o'clock in the
morning, the moon having risen sufficiently to make the road
visible, I roused the farmer, settled my bill and made my exit.
No sooner had I got into the road than I was peremptorily ordered
to 'halt!' The summons proved to proceed from a picket of the
Thirteenth Regiment, who hailed a comrade and carefully inspected
my pass by the light of a lantern. This proving satisfactory I
proceeded on my lonely journey. A heavy rain soon set in which
wet me through, adding to my discomfort." During the hours of
darkness he stumbled upon various suspicious parties whom, being
off their guard, having crawled under shelter from the rain, and
being perhaps asleep, he managed to avoid, fearing they were
rebels. One of these parties he learned to be Independent
Pennsylvania Pickets _guarding the road_! "After a tedious
journey," he goes on to say, "I arrived at Fayetteville about
five o'clock in the morning. Arousing one of the storekeepers, I
got all the information I could regarding my journey, and
procured breakfast. The storm gave no signs of abating, but I was
determined to proceed notwithstanding the roads were fast
becoming impassable. I found the bridges washed away, and the
roads over-flowed; but I soon got used to wading up to my waist
in water. I at length came to a stream which I found unfordable,
the bridge having been destroyed by the rebels. I was told that
this was the heaviest freshet that had ever been known in those
parts. Having engaged a boy to pilot me across the stream, I gave
him charge of one of my mail bags and cautiously followed him. We
found a temporary structure crossing the stream, along which we
picked our way. But when we had got about half across the whole
structure gave way and we found ourselves floundering in the
water. After desperate exertions we managed to reach the shore,
and I proceeded on my journey. I at length came to a railroad,
or the remains of one. The rebels had torn it up, burnt the
sleepers, and twisted the rails into every imaginable shape. ** I
reached Shippensburg in time to learn that there was no train
till next morning. Although tired out I concluded to push on to
Carlisle in hopes of catching a soldier's train at that place. **
About six o'clock in the evening I arrived at a small village
where I got supper. About seven o'clock I started again for a
night's tramp, not being able to obtain any conveyance. I walked
on till dark by a very circuitous and muddy road, being at times
bewildered; till finally my route seemed to lie along a large
stream of water. I was now becoming scarcely able to stand from
so many hours' severe walking, occasionally stumbled headlong, in
danger constantly of walking into the river. It became very dark,
and the mist rising from the river made the road and water all
look alike, and I had to feel my way along step by step. ** A few
miles further I heard the welcome sound of a locomotive which
served as a guide to the Newville Depot, where I arrived about
half-past eleven o'clock.[5-2]
[5-2] Our self-forgetting traveller omits to give the
distances of the remarkable journey he is pursuing. On the
morning of the 6th he left Papertown; on the evening of the
7th he parted with the troops at Altodale; and now a little
before midnight of the 8th he is at Newville--having walked
a distance which cannot be much short of NINETY MILES in
some _sixty-five hours_; carrying for more than one-half of
the distance about _one thousand letters_, whose weight
could not have been less than THIRTY POUNDS--all this
through drenching rains and over horrible roads; and
fording or swimming streams whose bridges had been swept
away by the flood!
"Learning that no train would start for Harrisburg till towards
morning, I took a room and went to bed. About one o'clock I heard
a locomotive whistle, and hastily dressing, hurried down only to
find it was a soldiers' train going to Shippensburg; _but
concluded not to go to bed again for fear I should miss the
earliest train eastward_(!) I spent the balance of the night in
an engine room of the station drying my clothes and the letters,
and took a train in the morning for Harrisburg, and thence to New
York, where I arrived about ten o'clock at night." On that night
he sorted the Brooklyn letters, and personally delivered most of
them early on the following morning!
In a second expedition undertaken for a similar benevolent
object, this resolute and indefatigable traveller recounts some
amusing tribulations which he suffered in order to secure safe
transit for a "large trunk filled with tobacco for the
boys"--worth its weight in gold to the tobacco-famished
regiments. Among other forwarding agents whose services he
appropriated was one "Nat Wolf, who had recently been employed by
the rebels in conveying dead soldiers", having been impressed by
them when they passed by his manor. Nat showed what he called his
"Pass", written on a piece of brown paper and signed by the rebel
general Heath, which exempted him from further impressment into
the rebel service on account of his "extreme poverty, and the
unfitness of his horse and wagon to be of any further service" to
their army! When it is considered what the exigencies of the
rebel service are in the best of times, some idea may be formed
of the prospective perils of the journey about to be undertaken
by our traveller! But "Nat Wolf"--his wagon "tied together with
ropes"--brought his rare freight through in safety, not to speak
of dispatch. Collecting another "large mail", Mr. T. at once set
out for home again, and delivered his precious charge at an early
day, notwithstanding an alarming attack of sickness which
overtook him at Frederick, Md.
"Such zeal in the voluntary service of the regiments, and such
extraordinary exertions to relieve at the earliest possible
moment the anxieties of thousands of hearts for whom he had most
precious messages, is deserving of more than this passing
recognition."
Our march being now directed homeward it may be imagined that our step
was light, and our hearts also. The woods again resounded to joyous
singing which broke from all parts of the line.
During the wearisome and forlorn marches of the last fortnight silence
had for the most part fitlier expressed our emotions; or, if we sang,
the melodies were pensive and often sad. But now all was changed. We
saw that our painful trials were rapidly drawing to a close, and it is
only the truth to say that we rejoiced with exceeding joy.
The distance to Frederick where we expected to get railroad
transportation we understood to be upwards of twenty miles, a two days'
march at the rate at which we had hitherto moved. But the road was
good, though being macadamised it was hard for the feet, and we made
but few rests. During the forenoon we caught sight of an army wagon
train ahead of us in the distance, the white canvas covers dotting the
road for miles like flecks of wool. The solidity of these wagons, which
occasionally passed us singly, and the excellent condition of the teams
excited our admiration, they contrasted so strikingly with our own.
Each was drawn by four to six mules, fat, sleek, natty-looking
creatures, which are taught to obey the voice instead of the rein like
oxen. Though from what has been said of the staple of the soldiers'
vocabulary--and it may be imagined the teamsters were not a whit
behind--this use cannot be commended on moral grounds for the sake of
either man or beast.
At noon we halted an hour or more in a deep, wide dell by the
road-side, where we ate our rations of hard-tack which we carried in
haversacks, rested a little, rambled a little, foraged a little; cooked
coffee, chocolate or tea; partook together of delicate bits which some
had contrived to pick up; bathed our feet in a brook which threaded the
dell; and in one way or another refreshed ourselves for a speedy
resumption of the march.
The day throughout was favorable for a long march, the sun being
somewhat obscured by clouds and the heat not excessive. The column kept
well together, and it was a magnificent spectacle to watch the long
line winding over the hills and through the hollows in the far
distance. On reaching the crest of Catoctin mountain a sudden turn of
the road unrolled all at once before us a superb panorama of the valley
of the Monocacy and a vast spread of adjacent country, in the midst of
which we could just distinguish afar off the spires of a city which we
supposed to be Frederick. A little further on we beheld the city
completely revealed before us in the beauty of a most quiet landscape.
Our day's march, it was now evident, was not to terminate short of this
place, and we were not sorry; for we expected to find transportation
awaiting us there, and that we should be hurried on to New York without
an hour's delay.
It was amusing to observe the disposition among the men to collect
souvenirs of the campaign, from the rusty iron button which a paroled
rebel prisoner might be induced to cut from his coat, to a dog led by a
string tied round his neck. In the dog line nothing appeared to be
amiss. From a poodle pup to a raw-boned mongrel, whatever sort came
along was sure to be gobbled up as if it had been a creature of
superbest breed. It was not the value of the thing, but the
association, that made it precious. The fancy however was short-lived.
Perhaps the long march did not agree with the dogs; or their new
proprietors grew weary of facing the storm of laughter which greeted
them every little while when extricating their yelping charges from
between their own or their comrades' legs among which they were forever
getting tangled. Whatever the reason, the dogs disappeared, there being
only one poor, limp, fagged-out mongrel left, according to the writer's
observation, to enter with the stately column the city of Frederick. It
is not impossible that some might have turned up in the shape of soup
or stew, had our commissariat been subsequently in so suffering a
condition as on some days and nights we had passed. At such times dog
or cat or mule meat, well stewed, would have been accepted with
enthusiasm and voted an immense success.
We entered Frederick toward the close of the day, and halted there for
a couple of hours or more. The shops were instantly besieged for
eatables and drinkables of every description, but could do little
toward supplying the ravenous demand. At dark we buckled on our harness
again, having three miles yet between us and Monocacy Junction, where
we were to take cars. As we neared the Junction the screaming and
snorting of locomotives greeted our ears, and pleasanter sounds could
hardly be imagined. The idea of a train of cars flying across the
country had haunted us in many and many a toilsome march; and now to
know that such was to bear us over the distance that yet intervened
between us and our homes, and to hear its shrill greeting, and to catch
sight of its glaring Cyclops-eye, all this was indeed exhilarant.
This last three miles was to some of us, probably to all, by far the
severest part of the march; much severer than it would have been had
the rest at Frederick been shorter. The day's performance was certainly
a great feat, only exceeded in severity by our Fourth of July's march
from Carlisle to Laurel Forge through a sea of mud. The distance from
Beaver Creek to Frederick is something like twenty-two miles. We moved
with equipments complete, even cartridge pouches filled. What kept us
up was the near prospect of home which loomed glittering before our
eyes, the knowledge that this was to be our last march, and a belief
that a great emergency existed in New York requiring our immediate
presence. But even under the stimulus of these inspiring motives it is
remarkable that we kept up at all. One poor fellow, a member of the
Fifty-Sixth, N.Y., had no sooner reached camp than his o'erwrought
powers gave way, and he died in half an hour. He had the appearance of
a hardy workingman. Strange that Death, for that day's fatigue, should
have passed by men unused to severe toil, and lain his strong hand on
one of sinewy frame.
The place of encampment was a piece of woods near the railroad. The
ground was somewhat damp and the air heavy with mist; but too fagged
out to pitch tents, we spread our rubber blankets and dropped upon
them. Moreover we did not suppose we were to rest there during the
whole night, but expected to be called up soon to take the cars. In
that bivouac, our bodies overheated and their nervous energy exhausted,
there was peril, much greater peril than many of us thought of; but the
night passed quietly and uneventfully.
_Friday 17th._--The hours of Friday melted away one by one without
bringing any intimation of a further movement. But a little after
midnight following we were ordered into line to take the cars for
Baltimore. It soon began to rain, and so continued till dawn; during
all which time we remained under arms on the road, waiting, and got
thoroughly wet again. At dawn the Twenty-Third and Fifty-Sixth were
packed aboard a train of thirty cars similar to those which transported
us from Philadelphia to Harrisburg at the outset of our campaign, and
which we had thought so wretched. Some of them were provided with three
or four rough pine boards for seats, and the rest with nothing
whatever. But now our plane of view was shifted greatly; and the
thought that our long marches, our exhausting fasts, our comfortless
bivouacs were all ended, was so ravishing that we regarded the car as
an asylum from misery.
We reached Baltimore about 4 P.M., where we got refreshments, and
expected to take cars for Philadelphia at once, transportation having
been secured for the Twenty-Third by its officers. The brigade,
however, was ordered to proceed together _via_ Harrisburg; and we
accordingly marched across the city some two miles to the Harrisburg
depot where we embarked about midnight on a train similar in style to
that which had brought us from Frederick. Our progress was very slow,
owing probably to interruptions on the road, the rebels having burnt
the bridges and torn up and twisted the rails. Repairs were by this
time nearly completed, though several structures we crossed were
considered very unsafe for the passage of trains.
_Saturday, 18th._--We spent the day for the most part on the car-tops
which afforded a charming panorama of the pretty country we were
traversing. The train being more than one half the time at a
stand-still, some of us had the enterprise to build fires on the road
and cook coffee; some hunted for berries; some ran off, at no small
risk, to a neighboring farm-house for bread and butter, milk, cakes,
pies, etc.; some whiled the time away with playing checkers, the
squares being scratched on the tin roofs of the cars and small flakes
of stones being used for pieces. At York we found awaiting our arrival
a crowd of small venders of cakes, pies, etc., who brought their
commodities eagerly to us, which we as eagerly purchased at outrageous
prices.
Between York and Harrisburg we had a narrow escape of an appalling
calamity. A new bridge over a considerable confluent of the Susquehanna
gave way under a freight and cattle train only a few hours before we
reached the spot--the whole now presenting a frightful spectacle of
wreck. We crossed the stream--some by a light pontoon bridge, and some
clambering over the broken timbers and wrecked cars, and took a train
on the other side which brought us safely to Harrisburg by dark. Here
we were threatened with another delay, which was prevented, as we
understood, by the resolution of our regimental officers. After
partaking of lunch freely furnished at the soldiers' dining hall, we
proceeded without change of cars toward home. Our berths for the night
were somewhat promiscuously dovetailed together, not unlike a box of
sardines. But notwithstanding an occasional kick in the face, or the
racy smell of an old shoe not far removed from the detective organ, or
other like reminders of our situation, we slept and were refreshed.
_Sunday, 10th._--At Easton, Pa., we were met by a great concourse of
people loaded down with food for us. It was morning church time; but
they had heard of our coming, and that we had but little to eat, and
here, behold, was an earnest of their Christianity. It was certainly a
very beautiful spectacle:--men with piled up wagon loads of cooked
meats, bread, cakes, etc., driving alongside the car doors and
dispensing the viands with lavish hand; ladies toiling along under
heavy baskets to the nearest who appeared to be yet unprovided for;
nothing for money, all for charity. It may be guessed the stillness of
that Sabbath air was broken by many a ringing cheer for those good
Samaritans of Easton. The train stopped long enough to give us a chance
to prink up a little; and one fellow had the hardihood to go off and
get shaved. The shout of derision which greeted this youth when he
showed himself was only equalled by the laughter with which we saluted
the first man we saw carrying an umbrella!
At 3 P.M., we reached Elizabethport where we embarked in a steamer
which was in waiting. Landed at the Battery and proceeded directly to
the Armory where we were dismissed.
In the foregoing narrative I have not attempted to conceal or underrate
our eagerness to get home. It is a feeling common to all soldiers when
their term of service is drawing toward its close, and distant be the
day when camp-life shall have such attractions for the American citizen
as to make him indifferent to it. But now that our desire to see the
familiar faces and renew the associations of our daily life was
fulfilled, we felt a willingness to respond again to a similar call
upon our patriotism, even though it were certain that similar
sufferings were in store for us. The service we had rendered the
government we knew to be honorable and valuable, and we rejoiced in
having so rendered it as not to be ashamed to keep its memory green.
And thereunto I would cherish every memento. The knapsack and
haversack, torn, musty and rusty; the battered canteen; the belt and
cartridge pouch; the woolen and rubber blankets, most indispensable of
equipments;--these shall not be thrown aside among the rubbish, but
cherished with an ever-growing affection. Nor let me forget my shelter
tent. Ah that painful roll! with which I toiled, day after day, over
the worst roads, enduring the tormenting burden for the sake of the
rosy hope that at the end of the march it would repay me and perhaps
some wretched comrade beside, by its warm protection; and not having
despairingly thrown it away in those mountains of our sorrow I do now
and shall henceforth cherish it as among sacred recollections. Set up
in some quiet retreat of my garden, it may in after years serve to keep
alive the waning fires of patriotism, as beneath it will be rehearsed
the story of Gettysburg, never to be forgotten while the love of
glorious deeds remains among men, with that episode of the Great Battle
which the New York Militia enacted, insignificant only when compared
with the grandeur of the main story.