regiments, and to Co. G, particularly so, on this march. Fifteen miles
is not a great march for veterans. But heavy knapsacks, cartridge-boxes,
haversacks and canteens and the rifle and bayonet, made quite a load
for new troops. Co. G started forth boldly in the misty rain and made
their first acquaintance with the slippery Virginia mud. All went well
for a few miles and then the column began to lengthen. Apparently the
faster the colonel led the head, the slower moved the foot of the
regiment, and when he reached Fairfax with the colors and a handful
of men, the rear was but half way there. Brave Co. G, not to be
out-straggled by the others, spread over as much of the country as
possible, and when they drew near the town, Gen. Sigel was at the
picket line to receive them. So interesting an occasion and one so
novel was rare even in those days. The captain of Co. G, was at the
camping place to receive them as they dragged in and reported
themselves. And he spoke to them, cheerily, "Hurry now, and get the
blank-blinkety-blank tents up. You have done blankety-blink well
to-day, boys." Co. G knew all that and accepted the compliment. Stoical
chaps, with aching shoulders.
One, and perhaps the greatest impediment to rapid marching that day,
were the heavy knapsacks, although the cartridges, rations and canteens
of water, weighed upon the shoulders of the boys with no kind results.
But the knapsacks, crammed with necessary clothing, books, toilet
articles, whetstones, hatchets, and much other stuff, three-fourths of
which was dispensable, bore heaviest of all. All new regiments were
similarly afflicted. Experience, however, taught in the army as at
home.
Col. Brown, it is meet to record, was thoroughly disgusted with this
first march of his men on a complete war-footing. Yet he was blameable.
He should have known that forty pounds of regulation outfit was a full
load, and that thirty pounds of additional weight in albums, revolvers
and gim-cracks handicapped his heroes on the road. Even without
sacrificing those stores of novelties, if the colonel had moved slowly,
halting frequently and resting his men, he would have saved himself
great humiliation. But he was getting schooled, learning something that
he had overlooked or forgotten, at every public exhibition of his
knowledge. He had called the men at Hamilton "my soldiers." One bright
lad remarked "If he is our father, who in Hamilton is our mother?" He
was indeed a fatherly sort of a man in some ways. As to their
regimental mother, she never addressed her children, but was ever ready
to enfold them within her bosom, and before three years had gone by,
they became well acquainted with Mother Earth.
For some reason it was always harder on the boys marching under Col.
Brown. Quite a contrast were Lt. Col. Arrowsmith and Major Carmichael,
who were no less prompt than Brown; but they appeared to understand the
men better. They realized that the short legged men were on the extreme
left of the companies. That the tall men led the companies, and
consequently unless all took the same length of step the line soon
began to draw out; as on the historic march just mentioned.
The exercises at Fairfax resembled the ordinary routine, varied with
exercises in firing blank cartridges. Men were here detailed for the
first time for duty on outposts. A picket was stationed not far from
the camp, who were given strict orders. With loaded pieces they stood
post, rain or fair, in continual expectation of the arrival of the
entire rebel army. No rebels appeared. Gen. Lee held no special grudge
against Co. G.
While no rebels attacked Co. G at Fairfax there was another sort of
gray-back came into camp. The colder weather of autumn and the dismal
rains came on, adding greatly to the usual discomforts of tent life.
Men began to sicken, others were homesick and consequently careless of
their persons. Of course Co. G boys were mortified when the first
specimens appeared and such a boiling of underwear as followed, checked
the increase of the pest. The pediculus is in question.
Co. G were now being represented in the hospital. Sergeant Jarvis kept
around as long as he was able, showing wonderful nerve, but finally was
obliged to leave the company and never returned; being discharged, he
was taken home by friends where with good nursing he recovered. In
November, J. M. Ainsworth died in hospital at Washington, and Alfred
Wilder died in hospital at Fairfax. Orderly Sergeant Moore was taken
sick and left the company permanently.
So much sickness in the regiment suggested the need of better quarters
and camp was changed. The men were ordered to build fire places and
chimneys. An old building was sacrificed to supply bricks as well as
lumber to use for flooring.
Fairfax was noted for many incidents worthy of note. Singular it was
that so many of the boys cut their hands when procuring wood. In a few
instances the forefinger of the right hand suffered. The surgeons
became suspicious, after a while, for those accidents in most cases,
appeared to be of an intentional character. The mania was not popular,
the victims were not discharged. But ever after, such men were spoken
of as those who were wounded at Fairfax. Co. G frowned upon such tricks
so effectually that only one or two of its members caught the mania.
While at this camp the regiment was assigned to the 11th Corps under
Gen. Franz Sigel, in the first brigade of the third division. Gen. Carl
Schurz commanded the division and Gen. Alex. Schimmelpfennig, the
brigade.
The 11th Corps was reviewed by Secretary Chase, at Fairfax, when Co. G
marched proudly forth with expanded chests and flashing eyes to the
brazen notes of "Hail to the Chief;" every one of them being a chief on
his own mountain, he appeared to receive the music as a personal
compliment; but after hearing it a few hundred times, later on, they
leaned more fondly to "The Girl I Left Behind Me."
The 11th Army Corps was termed a German corps while in truth at least
three-fifths of them were born in this country, and Poles, Hungarians,
Scandinavians and Italians were to be found in the eleven so-called
German regiments. Sigel had been praised for his good work at the
Second Bull Run fight, and unfortunately being a German officer
prejudice was aroused against him, and of course the corps commanded by
him were considered "Dutch." It was a bad day for the North when Sigel
was removed from that corps of willing fighters.
In Schimmelpfennig's brigade were the 74th Penna., 61st Ohio, 68th
N.Y., 157th N.Y., and 82nd Ill., regiments, the last two new regiments.
Sigel, Schurz, "Schimmel" and Col. Hecker of the 82d Ill. had all seen
service in Germany and Hecker was one of the leading revolutionists
there in 1848, in fact Hecker, Sigel and Schurz fled for refuge to
America. Especially did Co. G feel honored to be placed in the division
led by Carl Schurz, the patriot, statesman, gentleman and soldier. And
so the brave Co. G were to go "marching on" with the "Dutch," but
unfortunately never to fight "mit Sigel." They shared in the dangers of
the 11th Corps. They shared in the severely unjust criticism the corps
received.
The absence of ready means for trading purposes was beginning to be
felt in Co. G. Now and then a fellow could produce a little money and
was content. As the boys saw their money disappear into the sutler's
till, they were said to then have bought pocket-books--as their cash
was disappearing they began to save, like true soldiers; and when the
last dollar was gone they regretted their foolishness, like all the
world. They were at school and in the freshman year; shortly, the
sutlers will have a story to tell.
Money of the war was greenbacks and postal currency in fractional parts
of a dollar. As soon as the war began the speculators hoarded the
silver and the people were soon obliged to use the bills of state
banks, and shin-plasters issued for fifty, twenty-five and ten cents,
by merchants and others, redeemable at their places of business.
Ordinary postage stamps were circulating in small amounts enclosed in
diminutive envelopes and passed around as change. So when Co. G went to
the front such of the boys as had bills on state banks, found them
useless. And the tormenting postage stamps were often found stuck
together from the perspiration of one's body. Although mustered for pay
Co. G had not yet seen a paymaster. So they drew on funds at home, if
they had any, and in traffic received the beautiful new 50s, 25s, 10s,
5s and 3-cent paper currency; an event worthy of remark. The greenback
came out late in 1861, and McClellan's men and others received them who
previously were paid in gold.
A sad accident occurred while the company was at Fairfax. It was on a
pleasant day, October 30th. The boys were at platoon drill when they
were interrupted and returned to camp. One of their comrades had been
shot. His name was Henry Richardson, who being detailed on fatigue duty
was at work arranging for a hospital tent. A detail from the 26th
Wisconsin regiment returning from picket duty, had discharged their
guns into an embankment a half mile distant and in line with the 157th.
A stray ball went over the bank and struck Richardson on the side of
the head, killing him instantly. There was not a great deal of mirth in
camp the evening following the accident. And when the bright moon came
up, a line was quietly formed and followed the ambulance down the road
to the picket line, the fifes and muffled drums playing the march for
the dead. Members of the regiment had subscribed money and the body was
taken to Washington by Sergeants Hemstreet and Gates, there embalmed
and forwarded to Canastota. And for a long time, the deep shadows of
the oaks, the white cover of the ambulance and slow stepping body of
men who marched to the solemn music, was an impressive scene and one
seldom commented upon. In the language of one of the boys, "It was bad
enough to be shot at by rebels," without additional risks from the
rifles of their friends.
In the latter part of October orders came to pack up the superfluous
clothing, which included of course albums, quarto dictionaries, library
books of all kinds, hardware, etc., already toted so far in the
knapsacks. The object was not so much to lighten the loads of the men
as to increase their speed. Gen. Sigel had not forgotten that memorable
march from Arlington in which Co. G succeeded so well in lagging
behind. And so it happened that a cart load of boxes filled with the
surplus wardrobes and toilet articles and bric-a-brac of Co. G, were
stored somewhere in Fairfax and to be left there as prey for looters.
The first day of November marching orders came and the boys took the
road for Centerville. At one of the first resting places the knapsacks
began to drop and in their place the popular blanket roll was hung over
the right shoulder, thus supplying a nice pad for the rifle to rest
upon while marching. The same scene of disburdening occurred at every
halt, until the men were reduced to easy marching order, and at every
halt the ground was littered with the goods. Germans following who were
better fitted for the task, loaded themselves like pack horses; and
what the Germans did not take was culled over by the teamsters. What
cared Co. G, their shoulders were now relieved.
The first day's march was through Centerville and down the hill to Bull
Run, encamping near Stone Bridge, a locality noted for the scene of
slaughter there but a few months previous. Coffee was boiled in turbid
water from the stream and the boys bivouaced under the stars. The boys
of Co. G thought hard and rapid that night as they gathered like frogs
along the margin of the stream and bathed the pouching blisters which
adorned their heels. No matter what they thought of other matters, the
men of G were never known to lack in respect for one of those old army
blisters; and the more the blisters smarted, the more they were
respected.
Co. G were tired and even the snorers of the company were quiet. There
was Jerome Forbes a capital snorer; he was soon promoted to a
lieutenancy and probably then gave up snoring. And Hub Suits who bunked
with Jerome, was an excellent second. But they all slept quietly that
night for those fields were reminders of serious conflict. Around them
lay a good-sized army, victims of two great battles: lay as fallen
soldiers are buried on the battlefield, in shallow trenches or above
the ground with a thin cover of earth over them; their fleshless
skeletons protruding to mock the so-called glory in war. And only the
stars looked down compassionately. Those sleeping forms of the living
also were offerings, and of the 157th, every ninth man was to be lain
on the nation's altar before the close of the war. Still they slept on,
perhaps dreaming of home, of mothers, wives, babes. What a miserable
trade is war?
It was on that terrible field the chaplain of the regiment received the
acceptance of his resignation. He was a good man,--had served the
gospel but little to the men. He declared later, that he was
discouraged. He never did any harm, if he did no good. Co. G were very
sorry to lose the chaplain, for they felt the dignity of the regiment
was well guarded so long as a man of peace was with them. No, no, Co. G
had done nothing to discourage the chaplain; possibly he was shocked by
those long-rolls on Arlington Hights.--But the bugle sounds the
reveille.
"It appears to me people are in the habit of rising early in this part
of the country," remarked Doc White, as he gazed upward into the
constellated arch.
"Yes," spoke John Miller, "and I must carry that grist to mill to-day."
"You'll carry it on your back, Miller," called out another, in memory
of a knapsack.
"Co. G, fall in for roll-call!" sang out the orderly sergeant.
The line of march this day lay toward Thoroughfare Gap. Not far from
Hay Market the column halted and were drawn up in double-column on the
center.
"Attention-n-n!" yelled Col. Brown. "My men, the enemy are supposed to
be near. They have been seen to-day. You may shortly be called into
action and I expect every man to do his duty. Remember, the eyes of
Cortland and Madison counties are upon you. Attention! By division,
right wheel! For-w-a-r-d, March!"
Off into a field and skirting the woods, moved Co. G. Another wheel and
to the left, and the advance began. They moved briskly and steadily
along, until one of those narrow wash-outs peculiar to Virginia soil,
yawned fully four feet in width before them. Over went the divisions
like sheep, the major in the lead, for alas, the horse ridden by the
colonel--the old cow--refused to take the ditch. Fortunately the eyes
of Madison county were not present at the circus which followed. Thump!
thump! went the colonel's heels against the ribs of the cow; then he
whirled and dashed at the obstacle again. All the time Co. G were on a
still hunt for wandering rebels. And when the colonel, by making a wide
detour, succeeded in overtaking his men, they were well across the
field and had not bagged a single johnny. The company generously shared
their disappointment with Colonel Brown, just the same as though he had
kept his place with the column. The colonel had been foiled--and that,
his first Virginia ditch. In fact that was not a day really rich with
glory for Madison and Cortland counties.
As the field manoeuvre was over, the column again took the road--it was
doubtful if there was a force of rebels within twenty-five miles.
Toward night Thoroughfare Gap (an opening through the Bull Run
mountains) was reached and Co. G bivouaced in the oak woods with an
abundance of leaves for bedding. Two nights they slept on the ground
without tents--no great hardship in good weather; but the second day at
the Gap the shelter or dog-tents arrived; the day following they were
pitched, after a fashion.
While at the Gap the entire division of Gen. Schurz appeared to have
run wild. Every house, the fields, all property was exposed to the
looting soldiers, who were well supplied with government rations but
craved chickens, fresh mutton and tender beef, honey, home-made bread,
jams, and jellies. The camp of the 157th resembled a market. Cattle and
sheep were lowing and bleating in pens, fowls were plenty and dressed
carcasses, hams and many other articles and things hung from the trees.
Guns were popping and stray bullets flying, for the brave boys had
discovered the presence of the saw-back hog, a species common in the
South, usually running at large. They had first met him on the road
while marching in, when the big saw-back with long snout to the ground
claimed the middle of the road, and got it too; going down from the
head of the regiment to the rear, the ranks opening graciously to allow
him to pass. And he minded little the bayonet jabs pushed at him as he
sped as only his family can run. But many a saw-back fell that day, of
all ages, from roaster to patriarch.
After some hours of such ill-becoming looting, strict orders were
issued and guards thrown out about the camps. A few hours later the
doctors were busy with sick men who had gorged on honey and fresh pork.
Thoroughfare Gap witnessed several contests during the war and many
times the cavalry, either of yanks or johnnies, saw each other's heels
flying through that winding defile with warm spurs. And the place was
remembered ever after in the annals of Co. G, as the camp where much
property was stolen and also the locality where Dan Brockway left his
little leather-covered trunk.
Dan was formerly a peddler of various kinds of flavoring extracts, ink
and bluing. For some funny reason he carried a stock of his essences
with him into the army; a strange freak indeed. He had lugged that
package thus far, patiently bearing the compliments of officers and men
as they urged him to keep in place. He was one of the smallest men in
the company, but it took one of the largest and the strongest to land
him on his back at square-hold. Brock was always good natured and
always busy.
The day came for another moving and the captain said in a firm, but
pleasant, way,
"Brock, you must get rid of that blinkity-blim box of yours. Do you
understand me?"
Brock understood, as when the captain spoke that way he was in earnest.
So the box of beautiful extracts, cinnamon, peppermint and the rest,
was left at a house near the gap and is there still, perhaps, for Co. G
never saw it again.
The 11th Corps had been thrown forward to guard the supplies for
McClellan's army then on the march from Harper's Ferry. Large
quantities of stores came up and were in waiting for the advancing
columns, and as soon as the Army of the Potomac had gone into camp near
Warrenton the 11th Corps was moved to New Baltimore.
Orders for marching came Nov. 7th, a chilly, cloudy day. Before the
march of twelve or fourteen miles was half concluded, snow began to
fall and Co. G pitched their tents at New Baltimore, in a brisk snow
storm, and in a cornfield. Corn stalks were plenty and served for
tent-flooring. It was a blundering piece of work, ordering men to camp
in a muddy cornfield while a few rods distant was a desirable rise of
ground, to which they were removed within a few days. The 157th had
many experiences among corn stubble, until the boys came to counting
upon such a bivouac as sure whenever one was found conveniently at
hand. Blame was unjustly attached to Col. Brown for those cornfield
camps.
The continued bad weather caused much sickness among new troops, and
consequently the army was weakened. McClellan advised going into winter
quarters, but the Northern press howled, "On to Richmond!" and the
administration removed McClellan and placed Burnside at the head of the
army.
The troops were drawn up to bid farewell to Little Mac. His progress
could have been traced by the cheering of the men. McClellan was
popular with the rank and file of the Potomac army. Had his advice been
taken and a vigorous campaign opened in the spring, thousands of brave
men might not have fallen in vain, with other thousands of sick
besides, not to mention the heavy losses in stores and equipments.
Those campaigns conducted to gratify a clamoring press were not popular
after Gen. Grant took command of the Army of the Potomac. As soon as
Gen. Burnside was well established in his new command he began his move
on Fredericksburg.
At New Baltimore the regiment was for the first time joined by the
lieutenant colonel, Geo. Arrowsmith. Col. Arrowsmith had seen
considerable service and when the regiment was organized his name was
pressed for the colonelcy over his former tutor, Brown. The appearance
of the lieutenant colonel was pleasing. He was a tall, strongly-built
man, his face was pleasant and his voice was clear and strong. The men
enjoyed being under his command, because there was an air of confidence
about him not possessed by the inexperienced officers. There was no
hesitation when Arrowsmith gave an order, for he gave none new to the
men without first explaining and making it clear. At Fairfax, Brown had
captains and even sergeants attempt to evolute the battalion, while he
kept one hand on the machine that it might not blow up. But Arrowsmith
had none of that nonsense, and for some reason it ceased soon after he
came.
November, 1862, was very trying for the people at home as well as the
soldiers in the field. The election of Horatio Seymour as governor,
encouraged the Peace Party. At the front was Burnside surrounded by
officers and men antagonistic to him, who growled at his appointment
and criticized his every move. The malcontents among the corps
commanders favored McClellan and if not he, they wished to have some
one beside Burnside, who was a good man, and all he lacked to make his
plan successful, was hearty co-operation among his subordinates.
As already stated the men were growing more sickly. The hospitals were
filled and many were ailing in their tents. Co. G, amid all the misery
and the growling and incipient disloyalty, remained steadfastly loyal.
Its heroes marched up and took their quinine, or they marched away to
picket-duty. But they were being thinned out and details came heavier
and heavier upon those who remained well. The principal malady was
dysentery, which weakened the men quickly, but being of a mild type in
most cases, there were few fatalities.
The return was begun Nov. 17th over soft roads, slippery with mud, made
worse by the rain which began to fall about noontime. After dark the
men bivouaced in a field of corn-stubble, rain falling and small
rivulets running down between the rows. The boys were served with
boiled potatoes, warm from the kettle and graced and blessed by Billy
Mallows, the cook, who growled and snarled while he cooked, until the
very potatoes rolled their eyes at him. Thankful was he that night that
he was soon to leave the emblazoned service, as he soon after did to
give place to one of the best company cooks in the regiment.
At this cornfield camp near Gainesville, a whisky ration was served to
the men. They had fixed their bayonets and driven them into the ground,
strapping a third gun across for a ridgepole on which to lay their
tents; then spreading a rubber blanket on the wet ground they made
their beds for the night; a bad arrangement in case of alarm and
against orders, but they could do no better in the dark.
So the heroes turned-in, their heads on one corn row and their feet
over another, their bodies sort of zigzagged-like, in the form of a
letter Z. There they lay dreaming while the rills of muddy water
coursed under them, poor Co. G, until aroused by reveille. Then they
turned out, stiff and uncomfortable, but otherwise not in bad shape.
Col. Brown was very temperate, and whiskey was never issued unless the
occasion was urgent, and this was one of those occasions and the first
one--no doubt it was timely.
Marching was difficult on the route to Centerville, Nov. 18th, and led
over another portion of the Bull Run battlefield some distance from
Stone Bridge. For a long way the ground was littered with relics, and
then Brock proceeded to load himself down with bullets, grape shot,
etc., in spite of the remonstrances of the officers, carrying into camp
twenty or thirty pounds of lead and iron. He was thinking of the money
in such pickings. For a long time after, he amused himself whittling
the bullets into axes, hatchets or hammers duly handled in red cedar,
which he sold when possible as souvenirs to be sent home by mail. For
Brock had a family and in any way he could earn a penny, was sure to
make the most of his opportunities, sending the money home. And he was
temperate as he was saving.
Camp at Centerville was made on the bleakest part of the hill near the
little hamlet; not far from where, the preceding winter, the enemy had
built large-sized barracks. Those rebel huts were torn down and the
wood used to construct shanties for the newcomers. Winter set in and
the cold winds whistled across the bleak hill most wickedly.