returned to camp, coming up with it some two miles nearer than when it
was left, a fact that in no way disturbed those coming back. While
a large part of the Regiment was on its tour of duty, those left
behind were by no means idle and they too had their observations of
Confederates who apparently had heard from Chickamauga, a favorite
shout of theirs across the river being, "How are you, Rosey?" In the
afternoon of the 27th, the Regiment and the whole Corps again changed
locations; the pickets along the river could plainly see and hear the
rebels at their respective tasks; the work upon their fortifications,
their drills and other occupations. Here it was that Lieut. Colonel
Peirson's detachment found the Regiment on its return. A short move on
the 29th, brought the Regiment out of shelling range, but in a place
so heavily wooded that trees had to be felled to make camping places,
and on ground so low that very little rain made it extremely moist. By
building bunks, we were enabled to keep out of the mud, but we were
far from comfortable and, to crown all our discomforture, though there
was water everywhere, as in the case of the Ancient Mariner, we found
not a drop to drink; that had to be brought from a distance. The fires
for cooking and bodily comfort were maintained with difficulty, and
inflamed eyes, through prevailing smoke, became the rule.
[Sidenote: OCT. 3, '63]
Friday, October 2d, marked a sad day in the annals of the Divisions;
the forenoon had been so rainy that it seemed as though nothing could
add to the discomforts of the situation, yet the prospect of a march
to witness the execution of a bounty-jumper was not so inviting as it
might have been under less watery conditions. It was about noon that
the Regiment fell into line, and, after standing an hour under the
pelting rain, thoroughly drenched it moved out and in mud and water
seemingly knee-deep marched some two miles or more to the assigned
rendezvous where, after many changes of position to accommodate other
portions of the Division, the rain having cleared away, the band of
the Sixteenth Maine playing a dirge announced the approach of the
procession; the same consisting of the provost guard, followed by
an ambulance in which rode the prisoner, sitting upon his coffin,
accompanied by his chaplain. Blindfolded and kneeling upon his coffin,
the firing squad, obedient to orders, discharged their weapons and the
deserter of the Ninetieth Pennsylvania passed on to his reward; however
gruesome the scene may have been, undoubtedly the lesson was a valuable
one upon such as thought the laws of the land could be broken with
impunity.
The return from the execution to a camp, practically under water, was
anything but inspiriting and whatever was eaten had to be taken out
of the haversack, for campfires were out of the question and sleep to
men soaking wet was hardly possible. The weather clearing during the
night gave some chance for drying garments during Saturday, the 3rd,
and Sunday began to seem endurable and adapted to letter writing, when
there came orders to pack up, once at least heard with no sigh of
regret. While waiting for orders to march, all ears were startled by
the sound of cannonading, which proved to be an effort of the enemy
to shell a Union wagon train which had driven somewhat near the rebel
works. When the start was made and the new camping spot found, it
proved to be an excellent one, high and dry, with plenty of wood and
water, and by general consent, the site was first-class; in honor of
the Surgeon-in-Chief of the First Corps, the place was known as "Camp
Nordquist."
At dress parade, Oct. 7th, an order was read to the effect that
men, desirous of changing from infantry regiments to light
artillery batteries, could do so by sending their names through
the proper channels. Much to the surprise of the officers, there
was a very general response to the proposition; indeed two hundred
and twenty-three men, almost one half of the effective regimental
organization, had filled out papers. Colonel Davis forwarded the long
list to division headquarters with his approval, but the applicants
had so far overdone the matter, nothing came of it, save that General
Robinson in a special order said that the service must inevitably
suffer, if so many men were to go from one organization, and there
the project ended. However fitting the men found Camp Nordquist, it
was not theirs to remain there long, since after lights had been
extinguished in the night of the 9th and the men were in the midst of
their before-midnight slumbers, there came peremptory orders to pack
up and be ready to march. Quickly responding, and building great fires
for light and comfort, the Regiment was soon in place and prepared for
the next command. It did not come until the morning of the 10th, when
in obedience to it the Brigade, Division and all, started out over a by
no means easy route and kept in motion until morning. Finding ourselves
in the vicinity of Morton's Ford, we were ordered to cook breakfast and
make ourselves as comfortable as possible.
A BACKWARD MOVE
An explanation of the event of this and subsequent days is in place
here; by a singular coincidence, just as Meade was beginning to do
what Lee had been expecting of him, for several weeks, the latter
began a move similar to that of the year before when he had hurried
Pope across the Rappahannock; in other words, he flanked Meade's
right, thus making it necessary for the latter to end any southern
plans that he may have formed, and to devote himself exclusively to
heading off the Confederate leader. While the entire Union army is in
motion our interest centres in the Regiment whose story is in progress.
As originally proposed, the First Corps was to cross the Rapidan at
Morton's or Raccoon Ford, co-operating with the Cavalry which was to
cross the river at Germanna Ford, and to assail the Confederate right;
meanwhile the Sixth Corps was to cross at a point further up the river
and to attack Lee's left. An early attack was the motive for the very
unseasonable start, though its purpose was largely negatived by the
great fires with which the men had lighted their way through the night.
[Sidenote: OCT. 11, '63]
All day long the troops awaited the approach of Buford and his
troopers before crossing, but no cavalry appeared; night approached
and preparations for repose were afoot when the command came to pack
up and be off. Evidently the purposes of Lee had been disclosed and
an "About Face" was only preliminary to "Forward, March." The night
was memorable to those concerned in its exactions, not so much for its
length as on account of the difficulties encountered. Along a narrow
road, infantry and artillery jostled each other, frequently the former
having to take to the fields, many of them low and marshy, or to lie
along the roadside while the cannon had the thoroughfare. At last the
top of the hills near Mountain Creek, where the first camp south of the
Rappahannock had been pitched, was gained and an unparalleled scene
broke upon the vision of these sleepy and wearied soldiers. As far as
the eye could reach the entire landscape was starred with campfires,
and it began to look as though we were to sleep on our old campground.
Every conceivable noise saluted the ear; the stroke of axes as they cut
up rails for fuel, the clamor of teamsters, endeavoring to get their
teams through difficult places and the incessant hum of human voices,
raised for a thousand reasons. It was midnight, however, before the
Thirty-ninth was ready to commit itself to sleep, and even then, not
for long, since at 2 a. m. of the 11th, the call to arms was heard by
the tired and sleepy men.
All may have heard the call, but all did not obey at once. Some of
them had been known to ignore parental rising calls at home and, on
this occasion, they were the happy, lucky ones, since six o'clock
arrived and still no orders to move forward, though the right of the
corps had been long on the march. The many and rapid changes of the
last thirty-six hours have brought about some hitherto unexperienced
trouble. Many of the Regiment had been left on picket and one of those,
performing this at present hazardous duty, records the following in
his diary, "About nine (p. m.) receive orders to pack up and leave;
march to our old camp and get some rations; then start again for
Pony Mountain. About 3 a. m. (11th), arrive at our old campground,
where we first stopped (Aug. 1) after crossing the Rappahannock, and I
was just ready to lie down when we were ordered back about a mile to
our Regiment." Not all, however, were so fortunate. Though under the
command of that sterling veteran, Captain John Hutchins (C), owing to
the darkness of the night, some of the men lost their way and thirteen
were captured by closely following rebel cavalry; seven of the captives
being from "E," the Somerville company, were as follows: Sergt. J. R.
Hyde; Privates F. J. Oliver, Henry Howe, Joseph Whitmore, Washington
Lovett, all of whom died in Andersonville; and Corp. G. W. Bean and
Private J. W. Oliver; the corporal survived seventeen months of
imprisonment, getting out March '65, while the private, more fortunate,
was paroled after three or four months of durance; John K. Meade of "K"
was also taken the same night, the event happening near Stevensburg,
about six miles from the Regiment.
[Sidenote: OCT. 2, '63]
The soldier's time honored privilege of grumbling had free course this
afternoon, since it was between 10 and 11 a. m. that the lines finally
moved. The hardened campaigner understands that no one in the regiment
is responsible for unseemly hours of turning out; it means just the
same for shoulder straps that it does for men in the ranks; the enemy
is near; exactly when or where he may appear no one knows, but all can
be ready to respond immediately to the first command. The chances are
that not even Colonel Davis was aware that to him and his regiment
was to be entrusted a considerable part of the safety of the rear of
the retreating army. Yet such was the case, and when the fact became
apparent not over pleasant memories of their former experience in a
similar duty were recalled; happily in this case the wagon trains had
been hurried forward and the coast was comparatively clear all the way
to Kelly's Ford, passing on the way all that was left of the hamlet
of Stevensburg. Further down the river was a pontoon-bridge over which
other troops were passing but, as the enemy was near, there could be
no delay and at 5 p. m., or thereabouts, the men marched through, the
water being about waist deep and, in chilly October, anything but
agreeable. With all possible precautions taken for defense against the
closely following foe, and with great fires to dry their saturated
garments, the soldiers were soon comparatively comfortable.
CAMPAIGN OF MANEUVERS.
By way of explanation of the marchings and counter-marchings in which
the regiment is indulging, it should be stated that a considerable
portion of October was devoted to what Wm. Swinton calls "A campaign of
maneuvers." So far from reading each other's mind, it would appear that
neither Lee nor Meade was accurately informed of the actual procedure
of his rival for, while the Confederates were still making their way
northward, but not being encountered by Meade where he expected, the
latter ordered the Second, Fifth and Sixth Corps to turn about and
to be ready to face Lee at or near Culpeper; the Third Corps, under
French, meanwhile was at Freeman's Ford on the Rappahannock, and the
First we have seen at Kelly's Ford. When the Union Commander learned
that Lee had simply gone a little further west for his crossing of
the Rappahannock, White Sulphur Springs, on the 12th, and was rapidly
nearing Warrenton, he recalled the troops south of the river and then
began the forced march to prevent Lee's distancing him completely.
Thomas Nelson Page says, "Meade was a master at moving his troops
and now, making a forced march that night was in Lee's rear the next
morning"(13th). It was a hotly contested race as to which army should
first reach Bristoe Station, thus ending any purpose that Lee might
have had against Washington.
In all these movements on the great chessboard of war with its army
corps, divisions and brigades, what was a single regiment among so many
hundred? How much less was the individual, and it is the province of
a history, such as this, to keep as near the individual as possible.
Even a brigade, in such a vast array of men, was scarcely more than
a pawn in the mighty game the Blue and the Gray were playing for
American supremacy. Still every regiment had its part to perform in
the progress of the contest, and thousands of people in the homeland
were watching each and every day's doing with supreme interest, their
thoughts chiefly centered on some particular organization, and to them
and the members themselves there was no other body quite so important
as "ours." To follow day by day, the march, bivouac and duty of the
Thirty-ninth Massachusetts in this and all other campaigns in which it
had a part is the office of this story.
[Sidenote: OCT. 12, '63]
The white frost that greeted the eyes of waking soldiers in the
morning of the 12th was quite as cold as any that New England could
present, and campfires never were more appreciated. A hurried breakfast
was prepared and eaten when the brigade was ordered into hurriedly
made rifle-pits, where the day was spent with the understanding that
trouble might arise at any moment. This was the day in which Meade
was looking for Lee. While there were sounds of activity elsewhere,
nothing disturbed the Thirty-ninth, some even writing letters as the
hours passed on. At no time in the history of the Regiment, did legs
play a more important part than they did on the 13th of October; called
from slumber at midnight, the advance was begun at one o'clock of
the morning, and through the darkness the blue clad men were pushing
forward as rapidly as possible towards Warrenton Junction, reaching it
at 11 a. m., with fifteen miles to the credit of the forenoon's effort.
At Bealton station on the way, at six o'clock three had been a halt,
and the men naturally supposed that coffee and breakfast were in order,
but, much to the disappointment of all, came the order to advance and
that, too, without delay. When men demurred and undertook to continue
their preparation of food, staff officers rushed among them and,
kicking over their utensils, put out the fires, thus impressing on the
hungry fellows the fact that the march was a forced one. It surely was
a hurried getting-away and many a vehicle came to grief, particularly
among the sutlers who had been somewhat venturesome in their coming
to the front; it was even claimed that misfortunes to the outfits of
the sutlers were not always unprovoked, since the removal of linchpins
by mischievous boys and the consequent running off of wheels gave
opportunity to fill otherwise empty haversacks.
At Warrenton Junction all preparations were made for the possible
attack of the enemy, batteries being unlimbered, the Regiment formed
in battle-line, though the noon hour, after the long retreat,
suggested dinner to the almost famished men, but the experience of
the preceding July had taught all that the locality was sadly lacking
in water supply. Except those who were looking out for the rear, the
troops were in active motion, all passing by at the height of speed.
Great quantities of commissary stores were piled up, and these were
either carried off by the soldiers themselves or loaded upon the
trains and thus saved, so disappointing the enemy who had reckoned
on getting to these food supplies first. After a considerable halt
the march proceeded along the line of railroad past Catlett's Station
to Bristoe's, reaching the latter point late in the evening and
camping at about nine o'clock. On the way we had passed the great
wagon trains of the Army of the Potomac, packed in one, great, solid
square, with wheels chained together, the mules being secured in the
centre, indicating that the danger of immediate attack from the enemy
was thought to be over for the present at least, and it also seemed
that the First Corps came near being in the lead. A march of nearly
twenty-five miles with almost empty haversacks gave the men reason for
being considerably tired.
"Not every boo is a bear" was clearly shown on this march towards
Centreville when Fred, brother of Sergeant L. of "K," having permission
from the colonel, undertook to secure a chicken for the sergeant whose
stomach was not in accord with his regular rations. With instructions
to be extremely careful, the soldier went from house to house but
without success, the guards at these places telling him that he was
running great risks, since the men, seen in the distance, were clearly
bushwhackers. It was nightfall before he found the chicken he was
after, and by the time he was making his way back, darkness settled
down. He had to pass through a strip of woods where every object was
distorted and even a deaf man would have heard sounds. Halfway through
the woods, a real noise in the roadside bushes made his hair begin to
rise, but he did not stop to investigate too closely, when the climax
was reached by six or seven razorback hogs dashing across the road in
front of him. The sudden change from probable guerrillas to actual
swine was a relief unutterable, but the former were about and that very
night carried off two men from the headquarter's wagon train. While the
sergeant enjoyed his chicken broth and improved thereon, he declared
the risk too great and Fred went on no more such errands.
[Sidenote: OCT. 14, '63]
It was a four o'clock call of the bugle, in the morning of the 14th,
that summoned frost covered and sleepy soldiers from dreams to
realities, but their distress was somewhat offset by the appearance of
rations, of which they drew supplies for four days and thereby were
better equipped for the day's progress which began at seven o'clock, as
one veracious chronicler states, with the First Corps on the left and
the Sixth at the right of the railroad. While these two Army Corps were
thus continuing their way in relative quiet, heavy firing in the rear
indicated that the Second and Fifth Corps were having something to do,
the Second fighting the battle of Bristoe Station; General Warren having
his hands full in warding off the attack of the enemy while the
cavalry, on both sides, were piling up the portentous list of battles,
many of them bloodless, which adorn the histories of so many mounted
regiments. Centreville, so famous in the July days of 1861, was now the
evident destination of the forces and crossing Bull Run, at Blackburn's
Ford, the scene of the first day's fight in the memorable First Bull
Run engagement, the brigade arrived at Centreville not far from noon.
To build fires and to prepare a dinner, undisturbed, was the next act
in this day's drama and, if tired soldiers caught a few hours sleep
before the next scene, it need not be wondered at. Some of the men
in the Thirty-ninth were participants in the disastrous battle of
Bull Run; to them it was a case of old scenes revisited, and if they
took some pride in rehearsing their experiences they did not fail of
interested listeners.
But the day was by no means done; though Centreville had been reached,
the enemy was still near, only a little way to the west, and picket
lines must be established. Accordingly the Regiment proceeded on its
somewhat confusing task, while the greater part of the division went
on a reconnoisance. Apparently there was little definite knowledge
of localities, since one writer observed that they reached their
destination at seven o'clock and marched around till eleven, and
another of Company E relates the interesting experience of trying to
obey the orders to follow Bull Run until the pickets of the Sixth
Corps were reached. After crossing Cub Run, three miles away, Major
A. D. Leavitt of the Sixteenth Maine, division-officer of the picket,
went on ahead to ascertain his whereabouts, leaving the Regiment in
a field. Returning in less than an hour, he reported a rebel camp in
the immediate front; in trying to retire, the line was halted by our
own pickets when it appeared that we had been more than a mile beyond
our own lines. On calling the roll, Sergeant Dusseault found that
twelve men were missing. Major Leavitt would allow no one to go back
after them but himself and he found the missing men fast asleep where
we had been waiting. Bringing them all safe and sound to their own,
established the reputation of the Major with the Thirty-ninth from that
time on, as long as he lived. To one member of Company E, "Johnny"
Locke, the memory of the Major was specially grateful, because of the
latter's kindness. The young man had been suffering for days from a
carbuncle on his neck; in any other place than the army, he would have
been laid up completely, but here he kept going; he was one of those
found by the officer and, recognizing the condition of the soldier,
he kindly got down from his horse and mounted the boy in the saddle.
Sidney himself could have done no more.
[Sidenote: OCT. 16, '63]
The dawn of the morning of the 15th did not reveal the situation with
certainty to these inexperienced soldiers; they knew that they were
very near the thrilling scenes of more than one and two years before,
that the sound of musketry and cannon-firing in their front indicated
the possibility of a third battle of Bull Run. It was theirs, however,
to watch and wait in constant expectation of orders to lend a hand.
One writer enlarges on the delights of persimmon-eating, the October
frosts having ripened the yellow delicacy to perfection, and the
various other diversions that unoccupied hours ever suggest. Though
the brigade was finally rejoined and there was a movement towards
Centreville with orders to pitch tents, before the same could be obeyed
a long threatened rain began to fall, putting out whatever fires had
been built and essentially adding to the discomforts and uncertainties
of the day. Rations were drawn late at night and record is made of the
giving out of a portion of whiskey as a stimulant to the wet and weary
soldiers. The experiences of the 16th and 17th did not vary essentially
from those of the 15th; there were picket duty, acting as reserve, the
drawing of rations and all sorts of prognostications as to what the
outcome of the expedition would be. While the cavalry of both sides
kept up an exchange of compliments, very few casualties were reported
from any source. That those who directed believed there was immediate
danger was evident in the degree of caution constantly maintained;
roll-call every two hours and constant injunctions to be ready to move
at any moment.
The 18th marked the end of the Confederate effort to repeat the
campaign of the preceding June and July, and that of 1862. General Lee
writing to his wife on the 19th of October says:
I have returned to the Rappahannock. I did not pursue with the main
army beyond Bristoe or Broad Run. Our advance went as far as Bull
Run, where the enemy was entrenched, extending his right as far as
Chantilly, in the yard of which he was building a redoubt. I could
have thrown him farther back, but I saw no chance of bringing him
to battle, and it would have only served to fatigue our troops by
advancing farther. If they had been properly supplied with clothes,
I would certainly have endeavored to have thrown them north of the
Potomac; but thousands were barefooted, thousands with fragments of
shoes, and all without overcoats, blankets or warm clothing. I could
not bear to expose them to certain suffering on an uncertain issue.
From the foregoing it would seem that only the Confederate cavalry
had been responsible for the Federal activity in and about the old
Bull Run battlefields, and now even the horsemen were to follow the
foot forces and the Union troops would again move west and southward.
Ordered out and to pack up in the morning of the 19th the prospects
were not improved by a severe rain storm which completely drenched both
tents and apparel so that, to regular burdens, was added the weight of
water absorbed by the fabrics. Starting at about eight o'clock, the
route was along the Warrenton turnpike, the very road, so prominent in
all accounts of the two Bull Run fields, with the sad sights of only
partially covered bodies of those who had perished in the engagements;
the severe rain was constantly adding to the heaviness of the way
and Thoroughfare Gap, the reputed destination of the march, seemed
a very long distance off. The vicinity of Haymarket on the Manassas
Gap Railroad was reached about 4 p. m. and the noise ahead indicated
a fear that the enemy was there in force, our artillery keeping up a
vigorous shelling of what was thought to be the rebel position. Camps
were made and tents pitched only to have the vexatious order "Pack up"
given just as we were disposed to get a bit of rest. Rations, too, were
scarce and everything combined to make the day and night particularly
trying; at 3.30 p. m. or thereabouts of the 20th an advance was made
through Thoroughfare Gap, though there were those who thought "No
Thoroughfare," on account of the difficulties of the way, would be a
better designation.