soldiers were waging on the banks of the Rappahannock. Hooker, who
had been preparing since the last of January, had begun the campaign
which Union-loving people were wishing would atone for the disaster of
December at Fredericksburg. Again the latter name became familiar to
the national ear, and these Massachusetts men in Washington believed
that their fellow native of the Bay State would atone for some of
the earlier misfortunes. Incidentally much extra work came to the
regiment in the care of rebel prisoners, whom the Federals captured
in the later days of April and the earlier ones of May. Also, it was
the task of the Thirty-ninth to escort many of the captives to more or
less remote points for permanent retention. Another duty was that of
returning to the army at the front large relays of deserters, many of
whom had returned under the general amnesty proclaimed for them, and
in visiting Fredericksburg for this purpose, the escort had a chance
to see what real war meant. While following the forces in the field
up to and through Chancellorsville, there was no lessening of local
occupation and all articles of wearing apparel had to be kept just as
bright as ever.
On the 10th much attention was attracted by the funeral procession of
General A. W. Whipple, one of the victims of Chancellorsville, having
been shot on the 4th, though he survived till the 7th. A native of
Greenwich, Massachusetts, he was graduated at West Point, 1841, and his
fellow Massachusetts soldiers felt almost a personal interest in the
tokens of respect as the procession passed, including, among many other
distinguished public officers, President Lincoln; the pall-bearers were
eight first sergeants from the Thirty-ninth Regiment. For many years,
thereafter, one of the great forts on the Virginia side of the Potomac
was to bear his name. Those of the Regiment, not on other duty on the
11th and 12th, had the benefit of one of the periodical scares liable
to any locality near the seat of war. Just before dress parade on the
earlier date, at a quarter of six, orders came to have the Regiment
ready to march to the Chain Bridge, the most northerly of the three
great connections between the District and Virginia. After supper, with
rubber blankets and overcoats properly slung, the men were in line,
prepared for the order to advance to repel any possible rebel raid. The
bridge is about five miles from the barracks and the troops reached
that point soon after 10 p. m. No sign of any enemy appearing, they
stacked arms by the roadside and proceeded to get what rest they could
from the materials in their possession, every one taking the trip as a
mild kind of lark. At an early hour of the 12th the return march was
made by the men, tired and dusty, though they were quite prepared for
the eight o'clock breakfast which the cooks had in readiness.
It was not all work in Washington; there were pranks by the score,
and now and then one was written down in the book of someone's
recollection,--witness the following: "a corporal of Company A with a
guard was detailed to look after certain condemned goods some two miles
out; with stripes and chevrons he was as slick and dapper a youth as
ever wore a uniform. Without a cent in his pocket, and his entire party
of twelve men equally lacking, he took them all to the theatre to see
Maggie Mitchell play 'Little Barefoot'; he had said to the men, 'Be
ready at seven o'clock, sharp, with shoes blacked and with brass scales
on shoulders, the U. S. on the belts, well polished.' They obeyed and
were marched off the grounds and along Pennsylvania Ave., the Corporal
saluting any patrol they chanced to meet, right up to the theatre,
itself; past the ticket-office, and when tickets for the company were
demanded, the natty corporal threatened to arrest any one venturing
to halt or impede his men, so in they went to the very best seats in
the building, two dollar ones, and there he seated his squad. Never
was play better enjoyed and when, at 9 o'clock or later, a lieutenant
of cavalry looked the house over in search of parties without proper
credentials, the corporal rose and, like a veritable Crichton, saluted;
how could any officer disturb such serenity and immaculateness? He
asked no questions; not a boy in the party understood the circumstances
under which they were having the time of their lives, and the return
was quite as successful as the going; the whole affair, a triumph of
unqualified bluff and cheek."
[Sidenote: MAY 24, '63]
Very likely many good veterans never knew that the Northern soldiers
in Washington maintained an active Division of the Sons of Temperance,
having their meetings in Odd Fellows Hall, corner of Nineteenth Street
and Pennsylvania Avenue, and that, on public occasions, no branch
of the order turned out more men. Several officers and men of the
Thirty-ninth were deeply interested in the society, and one of them
records with some evident satisfaction the fact that he had closed a
rum hole and arrested the keeper, making one less source of temptation.
On the 24th the boys from New England, with eyes alert for anything
savoring of home, discover the passing of the Eleventh Massachusetts
Battery, the Commonwealth's only Nine Months' Artillery organization,
on its way homeward. Naturally the exchange of greetings was most
hearty. On meeting Major S. E. Chamberlain of the First Massachusetts
Cavalry, only recently severely wounded, yet out and ready to return,
an admirer writes, "If the service were made up of officers like him,
more would be done towards putting down the Rebellion."
Pay-day came on the 28th, and the promptness of the Government won no
end of praise from the always impecunious soldiers, a feeling that they
were disposed at a later time to considerably moderate.
The crowning event of the end of the month was the joint drill of the
Regiment along with the Fourteenth New Hampshire some three miles away,
in the rear of Mt. Pleasant Hospital on Fourteenth Street. It was hot
and dusty, there having been no rain for three weeks, but the men were
put through their evolutions by Brig. General Martindale, in a manner
that evidently met his approval, whatever those exercised may have
thought of it. White gloves and shiny scales suffered from the heat and
dust laden air, but the men bore ample testimony to the quality of the
drill on the old Poolesville grounds. However, the principal honors
came when the return was made, for though the route step was allowed
until the heart of the city was reached, then came the display moment
and, in column of companies, the Regiment wheeled into Pennsylvania
Avenue with the precision of a machine, winning the applause of the
crowd of officers who were occupying the piazzas of Willard's Hotel;
and without music, but with the regular tramp, tramp, that drill alone
can impart, the men marched to their quarters with an added notch in
their appreciation of what the Thirty-ninth could do.
In the way of dust and heat, June was to be a trying month for the men
who had to keep themselves in the very primmest form possible, since
to be neat and speckless was deemed the highest attainment of a soldier
in town. In those days there was voting by the citizens on local
matters and the drift of the ballots cast on the first day of the month
gave indications of a large secession spirit in the city. On the second
day, the Thirty-fourth Massachusetts appeared in Washington for the
performance of duties, similar to those already falling to the lot of
the Thirty-ninth. Though from Worcester County and Berkshire there was
the common bond of statehood, and the Thirty-fourth also prided itself
no little on its discipline and well drilled ranks. One of the members
of the Thirty-ninth comments on the hardness of appearance of some of
the prisoners whom he had to watch over and remarks that, at the window
by his beat is a girl, about eighteen years old, who is a rebel spy,
and that for five months she was a corporal in the Union ranks. Of this
same person, Colonel Lincoln in his story of the Thirty-fourth relates
that, to curb her and keep her within bounds, one of his officers was
obliged to handcuff her.
[Sidenote: JUNE 15, '63]
So far as the amenities of Washington life for the regiment were
concerned, nothing contributed more than the evenings spent in
connection with the Sons of Temperance organization, of which something
might be said in addition to former items. Formed in the Poolesville
camp during the preceding winter, it had been chartered by the Grand
Lodge of Massachusetts and was known as Army Lodge, Number 39, and
after reaching the Capital, its membership increased to about two
hundred. No better indication of the moral quality of the regiment
could be found. Similar organizations among the residents of the
city were especially hospitable, and invitations to all sorts of
entertainment were of frequent occurrence. A festival on the 12th,
where not only the delicacies of the season were served, but where
literary and elocutionary ability were displayed, was long memorable
in regimental circles. Also long remembered was Monday, the 15th,
when large details assisted in bearing to the several hospitals the
grievously wounded from Chancellorsville, many of whom had been
lying on the field for almost two weeks with scant attention, some
having suffered the amputation of limbs at the hands of Confederate
surgeons. Carried upon stretchers as gently as possible, some of them
fully two miles, through the intense heat, some died on the way,
many more soon after arriving. While people along the route did all
that they could do to alleviate their suffering, the condition of
these unfortunate men was a startling lesson to all of the awful
possibilities of war.
It would be very strange if the guarding of the White House grounds
did not occasion some meetings with the President. Of William S.
Sumner, Company H, a second cousin of Senator Charles Sumner, the
following is related: He had been stationed at a path, leading across
a recently seeded lawn, the path having formed a short cut to one of
the departments. Several officers had been turned back, when Sumner saw
the president approaching to take the cut-off himself. He was promptly
halted when the President exclaimed, "What's up, Sentry?" To this,
the sentinel replied, "The grass is up, Mr. Lincoln." Looking down at
his feet, the president said, "Some of it would be down, if I crossed
over the lawn. I gave the order to place a sentinel here and I am just
ready to be an offender." He commended the soldier for obeying his
orders so strictly, even to halting the President, and Sumner was also
commended by his own officers. Later when a comrade of his company had
obtained a sick furlough and could not secure transportation, Sumner
went with him to the White House, to present the case to Mr. Lincoln,
who, remembering the incident of the hold-up at the lawn, readily wrote
a line to the quartermaster which speedily brought the desired means of
going home.
The campaign which was to reach its culmination at Gettysburg was well
under way. Lee was headed northward and Union Governors were speeding
troops towards the South to assist in driving him back. Naturally,
expectation was at fever heat and every rumor simply added to the
excitement. Some of the men who visited Baltimore to escort thither
certain prisoners found the city with barricades in the streets and
negroes working on fortifications, all under the apprehension of the
coming of the rebel army. Friday, the 26th, under the tidings that the
enemy was near Fort Massachusetts, north of Georgetown, the regiment
was ordered to be in readiness to move at a moment's notice. Ammunition
was given out and, in light marching order, the men were excitedly
expectant when the order came to turn in and "snooze." As the sequel
showed, had the Thirty-ninth and other regiments marched out beyond
Tenallytown, a great wagon-train might have been saved, but those in
command had not the power of reading the future.
[Sidenote: JUNE 28, '63]
How near the men came to meeting Stuart's Cavalry appeared a little
later. Rumors were afloat as to some sort of disaster on the Maryland
side of the Potomac and not so very far away from the District. The
result was that late at night, orders were received to start at once
for the scene of depredation and after a rapid march of several miles
beyond the Chain Bridge, line of battle was formed at about two o'clock
in the morning of the 29th. If all concerned could have known that the
terrible Stuart and his men were many miles away at the time, with
no thought whatever of molesting Washington or its defenders, very
likely the impromptu bivouac or "In place, rest" might have been more
comfortable than it really was. The event, in which any act on the part
of the regiment was altogether lacking, was one more of those audacious
deeds for which the Confederate Kleber was famous. Crossing the
Potomac at Rowser's Ford somewhat south of Poolesville, under the most
difficult circumstances, early in the morning of the 28th, he rode east
to Rockville, whence a detachment, a very small one, dashing towards
the District, encountered a wagon-train of one hundred and twenty-five
vehicles, heavily loaded, on their way to supply the Union Army, then
marching towards the north. Though Stuart was able to retain the train
and to take it with him into Pennsylvania, the delays occasioned by it
rendered him and his men much less efficient in the great encounter at
Gettysburg than they might have been otherwise.
The resignation of General Hooker from the command of the Army of the
Potomac had produced many an expression of regret among the rank and
file throughout the army, but especially were regrets expressed among
the men reared in Massachusetts, the boyhood's home of "Fighting Joe."
With the steady progress of the rival armies northward, it was apparent
that a great battle was impending, and that all available troops would
be called into the fray, though the demand did not come quite as early
as expected. While on the banks of the Mississippi, Vicksburg, and
around the quiet Pennsylvanian city, Gettysburg, were acquiring new
significance in the world's history, the capital city, Washington,
was preparing for the celebration of the 4th of July, just as if that
were the only matter of importance. To begin with, all guards and
patrols were reduced one half in numbers, thus leaving a larger force
to participate in the parade. The military escort consisted of the
Second District of Columbia Volunteers, the Fourteenth New Hampshire,
the Thirty-fourth and Thirty-ninth Massachusetts Regiments. The civic
organizations of the city looked and marched their best; the Marine
Band discoursed the kind of music for which it was famous. Added
interest might have been given to the day, had news from the two
great battles, just fought and won, arrived in time. They would have
given the celebration the greatest cause for enthusiasm ever had by
an Independence Day, not accepting the first one of all. One prosaic
participant comments only this, "We marched from seven-thirty to one
o'clock; the sun terribly hot." So far as the military features were
concerned, the day ended at the Provost marshal's office, where all
were reviewed by Generals Heintzelman and Martindale. On reaching
their quarters, the soldiers were regaled with as good a dinner as
their cooks were able to provide. Another loyal Bay Stater entered on
his book these characteristic words, "It was very well, but nothing
when compared with Boston celebrations."
Sunday, the 5th, brought to the city general Daniel E. Sickles, minus
the leg which he lost on the second day of Gettysburg, out by the
peach orchard. A detachment of the Thirty-ninth met the distinguished
officer and escorted him to his home. Official news of the surrender of
Vicksburg to General Grant was received on the 7th and loyal Washington
went wild with marching columns serenading prominent officials and
with the general illumination, the Martindale Barracks not accepted.
President Lincoln, members of his Cabinet and Major General Halleck
were called on and each one responded with an appropriate speech. On
the 9th came the orders which, long expected, were not unwelcome, for,
though the Washington tour of duty was free from long marches, the
risk of battle and the privations of camp, there was ever the thought
that the service was not strictly ideal for real soldiers, hence the
willingness with which dress coats and other form of superfluous
clothing were packed against their possible need in the following
winter. Contents for the knapsacks were chosen with considerable more
judgment than would have been used nine months before.
JOINING THE POTOMAC ARMY
[Sidenote: JULY 10, '63]
It was about eight o'clock in the evening when the Regiment formed line
for the last time on the parade ground and the men marched off for
the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad station. The drums were beating and
laughter and shouting were quite in contrast with the solemn demeanor
of former passages through Washington, then intent on making and
retaining a reputation for discipline and self control. At the station
there was a considerable wait for the Thirty-fourth Massachusetts
and two batteries which were to accompany us. Hence it was late of
the ninth or, rather early in the morning of the 10th, before the
start from the city was made. Seven hundred and fifty strong, a
large shrinkage for the nine months of peaceful service, loaded upon
freight cars, the Regiment was headed for Harper's Ferry. All sorts of
items made the journey long and tedious; says one of the boys, "The
locomotive came near running over a 'nigger'; the train broke in two;
one of the cars ran off the track," and another observer comments on
the heat and closeness of the night and cars. The ride during the day
was varied with characteristic incidents of the halts where efforts
were made to secure food from nearby houses; at Frederick Junction
where a branch road runs up to the city, made famous by Barbara
Frietchie and Whittier, other troops joined the train and the same sped
on to its destination, not exactly the Ferry itself, but Sandy Hook,
the Maryland village opposite.
Darkness had settled down when the train reached the point of
unloading, and the debarkation was effected with every one wishing he
could see the wonderful panorama that the place afforded, but before
the scenery could be enjoyed there was the biggest climb before the
men that they had ever undertaken. The road was only an apology for
one, though its mud was deep and adhesive; following closely one's
file leader was necessary, if a man would keep in the procession.
Finally there came a real climb up a mountain's side with every man for
himself, until there was a blessed emergence on a plateau where, mud
encrusted, the men threw themselves upon the ground and slept the sleep
of exhaustion. The sun of the 11th, was well up the sky, ere the
wearied climbers awoke to admire the scene developed around them. It
did not matter much at what time the waking came, since there were no
rations and the company cooks had no facilities for cooking even were
rations ready. It was not till a large detail had gone down to the
railroad and brought hence the hardtack, coffee and pork, that eating
could be resumed, each one becoming his own cook, though some of the
soldiers declared that a twenty-four hours' fast, along with unusual
exertion had made the repast the most appetising they had eaten in
months.
Those thus inclined had a chance to view a landscape which had engaged
the attention of Washington and Jefferson, and which in more recent
times had been the observatory of John Brown, previous to the raid
which, without doubt, had helped precipitate the great conflict. Down
along the opposite banks of the Potomac were the blackened ruins of
the great armory, where had been made so many guns, now in the hands
of the enemy, and nearer the middle of the village was the fire-engine
house which was to go down into history as the "John Brown Fort." At
Harper's Ferry, the Shenandoah joins the Potomac, and, as a point of
vantage, it had been held by both rebel and Federal. A year before,
the place had been given up by Col. D. S. Miles to Stonewall Jackson,
and is now in Confederate possession, though the hurried construction
of a bridge across the Shenandoah indicates a disposition on the part
of the men in gray to depart. The retreat of Lee from Gettysburg had
involved the entire region in uncertainty, hence the ordering out of
regiments from Washington, and the presence in the immediate locality
of the Eighth, Forty-sixth and Fifty-first Massachusetts, nine months'
regiments, which on their way home from North Carolina were shunted off
into this section, along with the Thirty-ninth, forming a brigade under
the command of General Henry S. Briggs, first colonel of the Tenth
Infantry, also a Bay State organization.
[Sidenote: JULY 12, '63]
While individuals might improve the opportunity to admire the locality
and to secure whatever the vicinity afforded in the way of food, it was
not a tour of observation that took these men to this elevated section,
and about noon of Sunday, the 12th, came orders to move, but according
to traditional custom, the order was not carried out until six o'clock.
The march of the preceding night had convinced many that they were too
heavily laden, and there being near the camp an elderly gentleman of a
most obliging nature, he consented to take charge of bundles which the
men made up, and, carefully marked, left in his care, to be called for
later. Of course many who relieved themselves of burdens never called
for their possessions and the most of them thought the man himself
would become tired of his charge; but when years afterwards, a Woburn
veteran tried the experiment of writing for his package, it came back
to him forthwith, a remarkable tribute to the honesty and system of the
man. During the ensuing night very many, who had not thus anticipated
the exactions of the march, lessened their burdens by throwing away
what had become intolerable.
The roads, trod by new regiments, were always marked by just such
evidence of the lessons of experience. The regiments thus starting were
the Eighth, Forty-sixth, Fifty-first and Thirty-ninth Massachusetts,
forming the Fourth Provisional Brigade of the Second Division, First
Army Corps; the respective commanders being Generals John Newton of the
corps, John C. Robinson of the division, and Henry S. Briggs of the
brigade. The Thirty-fourth, which had accompanied the Thirty-ninth from
Baltimore, remained and gave the parting good word as the Thirty-ninth
departed, the two organizations not to meet again until the homeward
march through Richmond in 1865.
AT THE FRONT
When a brigade advances, all portions thereof do not, cannot move at
once, hence it was fully nine o'clock in the evening of the 12th,
before all were fully under way. It is a forced march on which the
soldiers are entering, and those who are keeping the run of events
will merge the 12th and 13th together, there being no good stopping
place between them. As one writer expresses it, "up hill and down, so
dark that we can scarcely see, all night, right up to 5 o'clock in
the morning, when we halt for rest and breakfast in a belt of woods,
about two miles from Boonsboro."[E] The trials of that night were long
matters of reference, blankets were thrown away, so heavy did they
become under the severe strain to which all were subjected. When the
halt came, many threw themselves upon the ground for sleep, rather than
prepare their coffee, the prime source of strength to the campaigner,
and some of those who did set about breakfast getting immediately fell
asleep over the task, so completely worn out were the marchers by the
exactions of the night.
[Sidenote: JULY 13, '63]
Nor was the end yet, since all too soon for the tired soldiers the
sound of "assembly" calls them into the ranks and "forward" is again
the word. To crown their discomforts, rain begins to fall and the mud
to deepen, as the ranks once more press forward through Boonsboro, and
thence over ways trodden by the participants in the Antietam battle of
the year before, the men obey orders and, being at the right of the
brigade, they pretty effectually distance their friends in the other
regiments and, finding themselves practically alone, they are obliged
to halt and await the coming up of the remainder of the brigade; so
thorough had been the disciplinary drills on the Poolesville parade,
the men of the Thirty-ninth were equal to almost any exaction. The
termination of the long march was Funkstown, an insignificant Maryland
village, important only as the point near which was stationed a part
of the Army of the Potomac, all awaiting the word to advance against
Lee, whose forces had been unable to recross the Potomac, on account of
the heavy rains, which had greatly swollen the waters of that important
stream.